King arose, and went up to dinner; but the Prince, with
his lords, dined in the hall, and was served with great
state and magnificence, accompanied at his table with
divers great lords, as the Earl of Suffolk, lord
treasurer; the Earl of Arundel, lord marshal; the Earl
of Nottingham, lord admiral; the Duke of Lennox, lord
steward; the Earl of Pembroke, lord chamberlain; the
Earls of Shrewsbury, Derby, [Huntington], Rutland, and
Sussex; the Prince sitting in a chair at the upper end,
and the rest in distance about four yards from him, one
over against another, in their degrees; all which were
those that were employed in several offices of honour
about his royal creation. [The Earl of Southampton acted
as cup-bearer, the Earl of Dorset as carver, the Lord
Compton as sewer,[314] and doctor Sinhowse, the Prince’s
chaplain, said grace.] At another table, in the same
room, on the left hand of the Prince, sat the Knights of
the Bath, all on one side, and had likewise great
service and attendance. [After some music, the song of
forty parts was sung by the gentlemen of the chapel and
others, sitting upon degrees over the screen at the
north end of the Hall; which was sung again by the
King’s commandment, who stood as a spectator in the room
over the stairs ascending to the Great Chamber.] About
the midst of dinner, Sir William Segar, knight, alias
garter principal king of arms, with the rest of the
King’s Heralds and Pursuivants of Arms, approached the
Prince’s table, and with a loud and audible voice
proclaimed the King’s style in Latin, French, and
English, thrice; and the Prince’s, in like manner,
twice: then the trumpets sounding, the second course
came in; and dinner done, that day’s solemnity ceased.
At night, to crown it with more heroical honour,
forty worthy gentlemen of the noble societies of
Inns of Court,[315] being ten of each house, every
one appointed, in way of honourable combat, to break
three staves, three swords, and exchange ten blows
a-piece—whose names, for their worthiness, I commend
to fame—began thus each to encounter other: and not
to wrong the sacred antiquity of any of the houses,
their names are here set down in the same order as
they were presented to his Majesty; viz. of the
Middle Temple—Master Strowd, Master Izord.
Gray’s Inn—Master Courthop, Master Calton.
Lincoln’s Inn—Master Skinner, Master Windham.
Inner Temple—Master Crow, Master Vernon.
Middle Temple—Master Argent, Master Glascock.
Gray’s Inn—Master Wadding, Master St. John.
Lincoln’s Inn—Master Griffin, Master Fletcher.
Inner Temple—Master Parsons, Master Brocke.[316]
Middle Temple—Master Bentley, senior, Master Peere.[317]
Gray’s Inn—Master Selwyn, Master Paston.
Lincoln’s Inn—Master Selwyn, Master Clinch.
Inner Temple—Master Chetwood, Master Smalman.
Middle Temple—Master Bentley, junior, Master Bridges.
Gray’s Inn—Master Covert, Master Fulkes.
Lincoln’s Inn—Master Jones, Master Googe.
Inner Temple—Master Wilde, Master Chave.
Middle Temple—Master Wansted, Master Goodyeere.
Gray’s Inn—Master Burton, Master Bennet.
Lincoln’s Inn—Master Hitchcock, Master Neville.
Inner Temple—Master Littleton,[318] Master Trever.
[During the fifth of November, the anniversary of the
Gunpowder Treason, the festivities were suspended. On
that day Bishop Andrews preached before the King at
Whitehall, on Psalm[319] xxvii. 3; and his Majesty
knighted Sir William Segar, garter king at arms.]
On Wednesday, the sixth day of November, to give greater
lustre and honour to this triumph and solemnity, in the
presence of the King, Queen, Prince, and Lords, fourteen
right honourable and noble personages, whose names
hereafter follow, graced this day’s magnificence with
running at the ring[320]; viz.
The Duke of Lennox, lord steward.
Earl of Pembroke, lord chamberlain.
Earl of Rutland.
Earl of Dorset.
Earl of Montgomery.
Viscount Villiers.
Lord Clifford.
Lord Walden.
Lord Mordaunt.
Sir Thomas Howard.
Sir Robert Rich.
Sir Gilbert Gerrard.
Sir William Cavendish.
Sir Henry Rich.
Having thus briefly described the manner of his
Highness’ creation, with the honourable service shewn to
the solemnity both by the lords and gentlemen of the
Inns of Court, I should have set a period, but that the
Knights of the Bath, being a principal part and ornament
of this sacred triumph, I cannot pass them over without
some remembrance: therefore thus much out of the Note of
Directions from some of the principal officers of arms,
and some observation of credit concerning the order and
ceremonies of the knighthood:—
The lords and other that were to receive the honourable
order of the Bath repaired on Saturday, the second of
November, to the Parliament House at Westminster, and
there in the afternoon heard evening prayer, observing
no other ceremony at that time, but only the heralds
going before them, in their ordinary habits, from thence
to King Henry the Seventh’s chapel at Westminster, there
to begin their warfare, as if they would employ their
service for God especially; from whence, after service
ended, they returned into the chamber they were to sup
in. Their supper was prepared all at one table, and all
sate upon one side of the same, every man having an
escutcheon of his arms placed over his head, and certain
of the King’s officers being appointed to attend them.
In this manner, having taken their repast, several beds
were made ready for their lodging in another room hard
by, after the same manner, all on one side; their beds
were pallets with coverings, testers, or canopies of red
say,[321] but they used no curtains.
The Knights in the meanwhile were withdrawn into the
bathing-chamber, which was the next room to that which
they supped in; where for each of them was provided a
several bathing-tub, which was lined both within and
without with white linen, and covered with red say;
wherein, after they have said their prayers and
commended themselves to God, they bathe themselves, that
thereby they might be put in mind to be pure in body and
soul from thenceforth; and after the bath, they betook
themselves to their rest.
Early the next morning they were awakened with music,
and at their uprising invested in their hermits’ habits,
which was a gown of gray cloth, girded close, and a hood
of the same, and a linen coif underneath, and an
handkercher hanging at his girdle, cloth stockings soled
with leather, but no shoes; and thus apparelled, their
esquires governors, with the heralds wearing the coats
of arms, and sundry sorts of wind instruments before
them, they proceed from their lodging, the meanest in
order foremost, as the night before, until they came to
the chapel, where, after service ended, their oath was
ministered unto them by the Earl of Arundel, lord
marshal, and the Earl of Pembroke, lord chamberlain, in
a solemn and ceremonious manner, all of them standing
forth before their stalls, and at their coming out
making low reverence towards the altar, by which the
commissioners sate: then were they brought up by the
heralds by two at once, the chiefest first, and so
the rest, till all successively had received their
oath,[322] which in effect was this: That above
all things they should seek the honour of God, and
maintenance of true religion; love their sovereign;
serve their country; help maidens, widows, and orphans;
and, to the utmost of their power, cause equity and
justice to be observed.
This day, whilst they were yet in the chapel, wine and
sweetmeats were brought them, and they departed to their
chamber to be disrobed of their hermits’ weeds, and were
revested in robes of crimson taffeta, implying they
should be martial men, the robes lined with white
sarcenet, in token of sincerity, having white hats on
their heads with white feathers, white boots on their
legs, and white gloves tied unto the strings of their
mantles; all which performed, they mount on horseback,
the saddle of black leather, the arson[323] white,
stirrup-leathers black gilt, the pectoral[324] of black
leather, with a cross paty[325] of silver thereon, and
without a crupper, the bridle likewise black, with a
cross paty on the forehead or frontlet; each knight
between his two esquires well apparelled, his footmen
attending, and his page riding before him, carrying his
sword, with the hilts upward, in a white leather belt
without buckles or studs, and his spurs hanging thereon.
In this order ranked, every man according to his degree—
the best or chiefest first—they rode fair and softly
towards the court, the trumpets sounding, and the
heralds all the way riding before them. Being come to
the King’s hall, the Marshal meets them, who is to have
their horses, or else 100s. in money, for his fee: then,
conducted by the heralds and others appointed for that
purpose, his Majesty sitting under his cloth of estate,
gave to them their knighthood in this manner:
First, the principal lord that is to receive the order
comes, led by his two esquires, and his page before him
bearing his sword and spurs, and kneeleth down before
his Majesty; the Lord Chamberlain takes the sword of the
page and delivers it to the King, who puts the belt over
the neck of the knight, aslope his breast, placing the
sword under his left arm; the second nobleman of the
chief about the King puts on his spurs, the right spur
first; and so is the ceremony performed. In this sort
Lord Maltravers, son and heir to the Earl of Arundel,
lord marshal, which was the principal of this number,
being first created, the rest were all consequently
knighted alike. And when the solemnity thereof was fully
finished, they all returned in order as they came,
saving some small difference, in that the youngest or
meanest knight went now foremost, and their pages behind
them.
Coming back to the Parliament House, their dinner was
ready prepared, in the same room and after the fashion
as their supper was the night before; but being
set, they were not to taste of any thing that stood
before them, but, with a modest carriage and graceful
abstinence, to refrain; divers kinds of sweet music
sounding the while; and after a convenient time of
sitting, to arise and withdraw themselves, leaving the
table so furnished to their esquires and pages.
About five of the clock in the afternoon they rode again
to court, to hear service in the King’s chapel, keeping
the same order they did at their return from thence in
the morning, every knight riding between his two
esquires, and his page following him. At their entrance
into the chapel, the heralds conducting them, they make
a solemn reverence, the youngest knight beginning, the
rest orderly ensuing; and so one after another take
their standing before their stalls, where all being
placed, the eldest knight maketh a second reverence,
which is followed to the youngest; and then all ascend
into their stalls, and take their accustomed places.
Service then beginneth, and is very solemnly celebrated
with singing of divers anthems to the organs; and when
the time of their offertory is come, the youngest
knights are summoned forth of their stalls by the
heralds, doing reverence first within their stalls, and
again after they are descended, which is likewise
imitated by all the rest; and being all thus come forth,
standing before their stalls as at first, the two eldest
knights, with their swords in their hands, are brought
up by the heralds to the altar, where they offer their
swords, and the dean receives them, of whom they
presently redeem them with an angel[326] in gold, and
then come down to their former places, whilst two other
are led up in like manner. The ceremony performed and
service ended, they depart again in such order as they
came, with accustomed reverence. At the chapel-door,
as they came forth, they were encountered by the
King’s master cook, who stood there with his white
apron and sleeves, and a chopping-knife in his hand,
and challenged their spurs, which were likewise
redeemed with a noble[327] in money, threatening them,
nevertheless, that if they proved not true and loyal to
the King, his lord and master, it must be his office to
hew them from their heels.
On Monday morning they all met together nigh at the
court, where, in a private room appointed for them, they
were clothed in long robes of purple satin, with hoods
of the same, all lined and edged about with white
taffeta; and thus apparelled, they gave their attendance
upon the Prince at his creation, and dined that day in
his presence, at a side-board, as is already declared.
_The Names of such Lords and Gentlemen as were made
Knights of the Bath, in honour of his Highness’
Creation._
James Lord Maltravers, son and heir to the Earl of
Arundel.
Algernon Lord Percy, son and heir to the Earl [of]
Northumberland.
James Lord Wriothesley, son to the Earl of Southampton.
Edward [Theophilus] Lord Clinton, son to the Earl of
Lincoln.
Edward Lord Beauchamp, grandchild to the Earl of
Hertford.
[George] Lord Berkeley.
[John] Lord Mordaunt.
Sir Alexander Erskine, son to the Viscount Fenton.
Sir Henry Howard, second son to the Earl of Arundel.
Sir Robert Howard, fourth [fifth] son to the Earl of
Suffolk.
Sir Edward Sackville, brother to the Earl of Dorset.
Sir William Howard, fifth [sixth] son to the Earl of
Suffolk.
Sir Edward Howard, sixth [seventh] son to the Earl of
Suffolk.
Sir Montague Bertie,[328] eldest son to the Lord
Willoughby of Eresby.
[Sir William Stourton, son to the Lord Stourton.]
Sir Henry Parker, son to the Lord Mounteagle.
Sir Dudley North, eldest son to the Lord North.
Sir Spencer Compton, son and heir to Lord Compton.
Sir William Spencer, son to the Lord Spencer.
[Sir William Seymour, brother to the Lord Beauchamp.]
Sir Rowland St. John, third son to the Lord St. John.
Sir John Cavendish, second son to the Lord Cavendish.
Sir Thomas Neville, grandchild to the Lord Abergavenny.
Sir John Roper, grandchild to the Lord Tenham.
Sir John North, brother to the Lord North.
Sir Henry Carey, son to Sir Robert Carey.
And for an honourable conclusion of the King’s royal
grace and bounty shewn to this solemnity, his Majesty
created Thomas Lord Ellesmere, lord chancellor of
England, Viscount Brackley; the Lord Knolles, Viscount
Wallingford; Sir Philip Stanhope, Lord Stanhope of
Shelford in Nottinghamshire: these being created[329],
on Thursday the seventh of November, the Lord Chancellor
Viscount Brackley being led out of the council-chamber
into the privy gallery by the Earl of Montgomery and
Viscount Villiers.
THE TRIUMPHS
OF
LOVE AND ANTIQUITY.
_The Triumphs of Loue and Antiquity. An Honourable
Solemnitie performed through the Citie, at the
confirmation and establishment of the Right Honourable
Sir William Cockayn, Knight, in the office of his
Maiesties Lieutenant, the Lord Maior of the Famous Citie
of London: Taking beginning in the morning at his
Lordships going, and perfecting it selfe after his
returne from receiuing the oath of Maioralty at
Westminster, on the morrow after Symon and Judes Day,
October 29. 1619. By Tho: Middleton. Gent. London,
Printed by Nicholas Okes. 1619._ 4to.
Reprinted in Nichols’s _Progresses of King James_, vol.
iii. p. 570.
_To the honour of him to whom the noble Fraternity of
Skinners, his worthy brothers, have dedicated their
loves in costly Triumphs, the Right Honourable_ SIR
WILLIAM COCKAINE, _Knight, Lord Mayor of this
renowned City, and Lord General of his Military
Forces_.
Love, triumph, honour, all the glorious graces
This day holds in her gift; fix’d eyes and faces
Apply themselves in joy all to your look;
In duty, then, my service and the book,
At your Lordship’s command,
THO. MIDDLETON.
THE TRIUMPHS
OF
LOVE AND ANTIQUITY.
----------
If foreign nations have been struck with admiration at
the form, state, and splendour of some yearly triumphs,
wherein Art[330] hath been but weakly imitated and most
beggarly worded, there is fair hope that things where
invention flourishes, clear Art and her graceful
proprieties should receive favour and encouragement from
the content of the spectator, which, next to the service
of his honour and honourable Society, is the principal
reward it looks for; and not despairing of that common
favour—which is often cast upon the undeserver, through
the distress and misery of judgment—this takes delight
to present itself.
And first, to begin early with the love of the
city to his lordship, let me draw your attentions
to his honour’s entertainment upon the water,
where Expectation, big with the joy of the day,
but beholding[331] to free love for language and
expression, thus salutes the great master of the
day and triumph.
_The speech to entertain his lordship upon the water._
Honour and joy double their blessings on thee!
I, the day’s love, the city’s general love,
Salute thee in the sweetness of content;
All that behold me worthily may see
How full mine eye stands of the joy of thee;
The more, because I may with confidence say
Desert and love will be well match’d to-day;
And herein the great’st pity will appear,
This match can last no longer than a year;
Yet let not that discourage thy good ways,
Men’s loves will last to crown thy end of days;
If those should fail, which cannot easily die,
Thy good works wed thee to eternity.
Let not the shortness, then, of time dismay
The largeness of thy worth, gain every day;
So, many years thou gain’st that some have lost;
For they that think their care is at great cost,
If they do any good in time so small,
They make their year but a poor day in all;
For, as a learnèd man will comprehend,
In compass of his hour, doctrine so sound,
Which give another a whole year to mend,
He shall not equal upon any ground;
So the judicious, when he comes to bear
This powerful office, struck with divine fear,
Collects his spirits, redeems his hours with care,
Thinks of his charge and oath, what ties they are;
And with a virtuous resolution then
Works more good in one year than some in ten:
Nor is this spoken any to detract,
But all t’ encourage to put truth in act.
Methinks I see oppression hang the head,
Falsehood and injury with their guilt struck dead,
At this triumphant hour; ill causes hide
Their leprous faces, daring not t’ abide
The brightness of this day; and in mine ear
Methinks the Graces’ silver chimes I hear.
Good wishes are at work now in each heart,
Throughout this sphere of brotherhood play their part;
Chiefly thy noble own fraternity,
As near in heart as they’re in place to thee,
The ensigns of whose love bounty displays,
Yet esteems all their cost short of thy praise.
There will appear elected sons of war,
Which this fair city boasts of, for their care,
Strength, and experience, set in truth of heart,
All great and glorious masters in that art
Which gives to man his dignity, name, and seal,
Prepar’d to speak love in a noble peal,
Knowing two triumphs must on this day dwell,
For magistrate one, and one for coronel:[332]
Return lord-general, that’s the name of state
The soldier gives thee, peace the magistrate.
On then, great hope! here that good care begins,
Which now earth’s love and heaven’s hereafter wins.
At his lordship’s return from Westminster, those worthy
gentlemen whose loves and worths were prepared before in
the conclusion of the former speech by water, are now
all ready to salute their lord-general with a noble
volley at his lordship’s landing; and in the best and
most commendable form, answerable to the nobleness of
their free love and service, take their march before his
lordship, who, being so honourably conducted, meets the
first Triumph by land waiting his lordship’s most wished
arrival in Paul’s-Churchyard, near Paul’s-Chain, which
is a Wilderness, most gracefully and artfully furnished
with divers kind of beasts bearing fur, proper to the
fraternity; the presenter the musical Orpheus, great
master both in poesy and harmony, who by his excellent
music drew after him wild beasts, woods, and mountains;
over his head an artificial cock, often made to crow and
flutter with his wings. This Orpheus, at the approach of
his lordship, gives life to these words:
_The speech delivered by_ ORPHEUS.
Great lord, example is the crystal glass
By which wise magistracy sets his face,
Fits all his actions to their comeliest dress,
For there he sees honour and seemliness:
’Tis not like flattering glasses, those false books
Made to set age back in great courtiers’ looks;
Like clocks on revelling nights, that ne’er go right,
Because the sports may yield more full delight,
But when they break off, then they find it late,
The time and truth appear:[333] such is their state
Whose death by flatteries is set back awhile,
But meets ’em in the midst of their safe smile;
Such horrors those forgetful things attend,
That only mind their ends, but not their end.
Leave them to their false trust, list thou to me;
Thy power is great, so let thy virtues be,
Thy care, thy watchfulness, which are but things
Remember’d to thy praise; from thence it springs,
And not from fear of any want in thee,
For in this truth I may be comely free,—
Never was man advanc’d yet waited on
With a more noble expectation:
That’s a great work to perfect; and as those
That have in art a mastery can oppose
All comers, and come off with learnèd fame,
Yet think not scorn still of a scholar’s name,
A title which they had in ignorant youth,—
So he that deals in such a weight of truth
As th’ execution of a magistrate’s place,
Though never so exact in form and grace,
Both from his own worth and man’s free applause,
Yet may be call’d a labourer in the cause,
And be thought good to be so, in true care
The labour being so glorious, just, and fair.
Behold, then, in a rough example here,
The rude and thorny ways thy care must clear;
Such are the vices in a city sprung,
As are yon thickets that grow close and strong;
Such is oppression, cozenage, bribes, false hires,
As are yon catching and entangling briers;
Such is gout-justice, that’s delay in right,
Demurs in suits that are as clear as light;
Just such a wilderness is a commonwealth
That is undrest, unprun’d, wild in her health;
And the rude multitude the beasts a’ the wood,
That know no laws, but only will and blood;
And yet, by fair example, musical grace,
Harmonious government of the man in place,
Of fair integrity and wisdom fram’d,
They stand as mine do, ravish’d, charm’d, and tam’d:
Every wise magistrate that governs thus,
May well be call’d a powerful Orpheus.
Behold yon bird of state, the vigilant cock,
The morning’s herald and the ploughman’s clock,
At whose shrill crow the very lion trembles,
The sturdiest prey-taker that here assembles;
How fitly does it match your name and power,
Fix’d in that name now by this glorious hour,
At your just voice to shake the bold’st offence
And sturdiest sin that e’er had residence
In secure man, yet, with an equal eye,
Matching grave justice with fair clemency!
It being the property he chiefly shews,
To give wing-warning still before he crows,
To crow before he strike; by his clapt wing
To stir himself up first, which needful thing
Is every man’s first duty; by his crow,
A gentle call or warning, which should flow
From every magistrate; before he extend
The stroke of justice, he should reprehend
And try the virtue of a powerful word,
If that prevail not, then the spur, the sword.
See, herein honours to his majesty
Are not forgotten, when I turn and see
The several countries, in those faces plain,
All owing fealty to one sovereign;
The noble English, the fair-thriving Scot,
Plain-hearted Welsh, the Frenchman bold and hot,
The civilly instructed Irishman,
And that kind savage the Virginian,
All lovingly assembled, e’en by fate,
This thy day’s honour to congratulate.
On, then; and as your service fills this place,
So through the city do his lordship grace.
At which words this part of Triumph moves onward,
and meets the full body of the show in the other
Paul’s-Churchyard; then dispersing itself according to
the ordering of the speeches following, one part, which
is the Sanctuary of Fame, plants itself near the Little
Conduit in Cheap; another, which hath the title of the
Parliament of Honour, at St. Laurence-Lane end. Upon the
battlements of that beauteous sanctuary, adorned with
six-and-twenty bright-burning lamps, having allusion to
the six-and-twenty aldermen—they being, for their
justice, government, and example, the lights of the
city—a grave personage, crowned with the title and
inscription of Example, breathes forth these sounds:
EXAMPLE.
From that rough wilderness, which did late present
The perplex’d state and cares of government,
Which every painful magistrate must meet,
Here the reward stands for thee,—a chief seat
In Fame’s fair Sanctuary, where some of old,
Crown’d with their troubles, now are here enroll’d
In memory’s sacred sweetness to all ages;
And so much the world’s voice of thee presages.
And these that sit for many, with their graces
Fresh as the buds of roses, though they sleep,
In thy Society had once high places,
Which in their good works they for ever keep;
Life call’d ’em in their time honour’s fair stars,
Large benefactors, and sweet governors.
If here were not sufficient grace for merit,
Next object, I presume, will raise thy spirit.
In this masterpiece of art, Fame’s illustrious
Sanctuary, the memory of those worthies shine[s]
gloriously that have been both lord mayors of this city
and noble benefactors and brothers of this worthy
fraternity; to wit, Sir Henry Barton, Sir William
Gregory, Sir Stephen Jennings, Sir Thomas Mirfen, Sir
Andrew Judd, Sir Wolstone Dixie, Sir Stephen Slany, Sir
Richard Saltonstall, and now the right honourable Sir
William Cockaine.
That Sir Henry Barton, an honour to memory, was the
first that, for the safety of travellers and strangers
by night through the city, caused lights to be hung out
from Allhollontide[334] to Candlemas; therefore, in this
Sanctuary of Fame, where the beauty of good actions
shine[s], he is most properly and worthily recorded.
His lordship by this time gracefully conducted toward
that Parliament of Honour, near St. Laurence-Lane end,
Antiquity, from its eminence, thus gloriously salutes
him:
ANTIQUITY, _in the Parliament of Honour_.
Grave city-governor, so much honour do me,
Vouchsafe thy presence and thy patience to me,
And I’ll reward that virtue with a story,
That shall to thy fraternity add glory;
Then to thy worth no mean part will arise,
That art ordain’d chief for that glorious prize.
’Tis I that keep all the records of fame,
Mother of truths, Antiquity my name;
No year, month, day, or hour, that brings in place
Good works and noble, for the city’s grace,
But I record, that after-times may see
What former were, and how they ought to be
Fruitful and thankful, in fair actions flowing,
To meet heaven’s blessings, to which much is owing.
For instance, let all grateful eyes be plac’d
Upon this mount of royalty, by kings grac’d,
Queens, prince, dukes, nobles, more by numbering gain’d
Than can be in this narrow sphere contain’d;
Seven kings, five queens, only one prince alone,
Eight dukes, two earls, Plantagenets twenty-one;
All these of this fraternity made free,
Brothers and sisters of this Company:
And see with what propriety the Fates
Have to this noble brotherhood knit such states;[335]
For what society the whole city brings
Can with such ornaments adorn their kings,—
Their only robes of state, when they consent
To ride most glorious to high parliament?
And mark in this their royal intent still;
For when it pleas’d the goodness of their will
To put the richest robes of their loves on
To the whole city, the most ever came
To this Society, which records here prove,
Adorning their adorners with their love;
Which was a kingly equity.
Be careful then, great lord, to bring forth deeds
To match that honour that from hence proceeds.
At the close of which speech the whole Triumph takes
leave of his lordship for that time; and, till after
the feast at Guildhall, rests from service. His
lordship, accompanied with many noble personages; the
honourable fellowship of ancient magistrates and
aldermen of this city; the two new sheriffs, the one
of his own fraternity (the complete Brotherhood of
Skinners), the right worshipful master sheriff Dean, a
very bountiful and worthy citizen; not forgetting the
noble pains and loves of the heroic captains of the
city, and gentlemen of the Artillery-garden,[336]
making, with two glorious ranks, a manly and majestic
passage for their lord-general, his lordship, thorough
Guildhall-yard; and afterward their loves to his
lordship resounding in a second noble volley.
Now, that all the honours before mentioned in that
Parliament, or Mount of Royalty, may arrive at a
clear and perfect manifestation, to prevent[337] the
over-curious and inquisitive spirit, the names and times
of those kings, queens, prince, dukes, and nobles, free
of the honourable Fraternity of Skinners in London,
shall here receive their proper illustrations.
Anno 1329. King Edward the Third, Plantagenet, by
whom, in the first of his reign, this worthy Society
of Skinners was incorporate, he their first royal
founder and brother: queen Philip his wife, younger
daughter of William Earl of Henault, the first royal
sister; so gloriously virtuous that she is a rich
ornament to memory; she both founded and endowed
Queen’s College in Oxford, to the continuing estate of
which I myself wish all happiness; this queen at her
death desired three courtesies, some of which are rare
in these days; first, that her debts might be paid to
the merchants; secondly, that her gifts to the church
might be performed; thirdly, that the king, when he
died, would at Westminster be interred with her.
Anno 1357. Edward Plantagenet, surnamed the Black
Prince, son to Edward the Third, Prince of Wales, Duke
of Guienne, Aquitaine, and Cornwall, Earl Palatine of
Chester. In the battle of Poictiers in France, he, with
8000 English against 60,000 French, got the victory;
took the king, Philip his son, seventeen earls, with
divers other noble personages, prisoners.
King Richard the Second, Plantagenet. This king being
the third royal brother of this honourable Company, and
at that time the Society consisting of two brotherhoods
of Corpus Christi, the one at St. Mary Spittle, the
other at St. Mary Bethlem without Bishopsgate, in the
eighteenth of his reign granted them to make their two
brotherhoods one, by the name of the Fraternity of
Corpus Christi of Skinners, which worthy title shines at
this day gloriously amongst ’em; and toward the end of
this king’s reign, 1396, a great feast was celebrated in
Westminster Hall, where the lord mayor of this city sate
as guest.
Anno 1381. Queen Anne, his wife, daughter to the Emperor
Charles the Fourth, and sister to [the] Emperor
Wenceslaus, whose modesty then may make this age blush
now, she being the first that taught women to ride
sideling on horseback; but who it was that taught ’em to
ride straddling, there is no records so immodest that
can shew me, only the impudent time and the open
profession. This fair precedent of womanhood died at
Sheen, now Richmond; for grief whereof King Richard her
lord abandoned and defaced that goodly house.
Anno 1399. King Henry the Fourth, Plantagenet, surnamed
Bolingbroke, a fourth royal brother. In his time the
famous Guildhall in London was erected, where the
honourable courts of the city are kept, and this
bounteous feast yearly celebrated. In the twelfth year
of his reign the river of Thames flowed thrice in one
day.
Queen Joan, or Jane, Duchess of Bretagne, late wife to
John Duke of Bretagne, and daughter to the King of
Navarre, another princely sister.
Anno 1412. King Henry the Fifth, Plantagenet, Prince of
Wales, proclaimed Mayor and Regent of France: he won
that famous victory on the French at the battle of
Agincourt.
Queen Catherine, his wife, daughter to Charles the
Sixth, King of France.
King Henry the Sixth, Plantagenet, of the house of
Lancaster.
King Edward the Fourth, Plantagenet, of the house of
York. This king feasted the lord mayor, Richard Chawry,
and the aldermen his brethren, with certain commoners,
in Waltham Forest: after dinner rode a-hunting with the
king, who gave him plenty of venison, and sent to the
lady mayoress and her sisters the aldermen’s wives, two
harts, six bucks, and a tun of wine, to make merry; and
this noble feast was kept at Drapers’ Hall.
Anno 1463. Queen Elizabeth Grey, his wife, daughter to
Richard Woodville, Earl Rivers, and to the Duchess of
Bedford; she was mother to the Lord Grey of Ruthin, that
in his time was Marquis Dorset.
King Richard the Third, brother to Edward the Fourth,
Duke of Gloucester, and of the house of York.
Lionel Plantagenet, third son to the third Edward, Duke
of Clarence and Earl of Ulster: Philip his daughter and
heir married Edward Mortimer, Earl of March, from whom
the house of York descends.
Henry Plantagenet, grandchild to Edmond Crouchback,
second son to Henry the Third.
Richard Plantagenet, father of Edward the Fourth, Duke
of York and Albemarle, Earl of Cambridge, Rutland,
March, Clare, and Ulster.
Thomas Plantagenet, second son of Henry the Fourth.
John Plantagenet, third son of Henry the Fourth; so
noble a soldier, and so great a terror to the French,
that when Charles the Eighth was moved to deface his
monument—being buried in Rouen—the king thus answered,—
“Pray, let him rest in peace being dead, of whom we were
all afraid when he lived.”
Humfrey Plantagenet, fourth son of Henry the Fourth.
John Holland, Duke of Exeter.
George Plantagenet, brother to Edward the Fourth.
Edmond Plantagenet, brother to Edward the Fourth.
Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury and Warwick, called
the Great Earl of Warwick.
John Cornwall Knight, Baron Fanhope.
_The royal sum._
Seven kings, five queens, one prince, seven dukes, one
earl; twenty-one Plantagenets.
Seven kings, five queens, one prince, eight dukes, two
earls, one lord; twenty-four Skinners.
The feast ended at Guildhall, his lordship, as yearly
custom invites it, goes, accompanied with the Triumph
before him, towards St. Paul’s, to perform the noble and
reverend ceremonies which divine antiquity religiously
ordained, and are[338] no less than faithfully observed.
Holy service and ceremonies accomplished, his lordship
returns by torchlight to his own house, the whole
Triumph placed in comely and decent order before him;
the Wilderness; the Sanctuary of Fame, adorned with
lights; the Parliament of Honour; and the Triumphant
Chariot of Love, with his graceful concomitants, the
chariot drawn with two luzerns.[339] Near to the
entrance of his lordship’s gate, Love, prepared with his
welcome, thus salutes him:
LOVE.
I was the first, grave lord, that welcom’d thee
To this day’s honour, and I spake it free,
Just as in every heart I found it plac’d,
And ’tis my turn again now to speak last;
For love is circular, like the bright sun,
And takes delight to end where it begun,
Though indeed never ending in true will,
But rather may be said beginning still,
As all great works are of celestial birth,
Of which love is the chief in heaven and earth.
To what blest state then are thy fortunes come,
Since that both brought thee forth and brings thee home?
Now, as in common course, which clears things best,
There’s no free gift but looks for thanks at least;
A love so bountiful, so free, so good,
From the whole city, from thy brotherhood—
That name I ought a while to dwell upon—
Expect some fair requital from the man
They’ve all so largely honour’d: what’s desir’d?
That which in conscience ought to be requir’d;
O, thank ’em in thy justice, in thy care,
Zeal to right wrongs, works that are clear and fair,
And will become thy soul, whence virtue springs,
As those rich ornaments thy brother-kings.
And since we cannot separate love and care—
For where care is, a love must needs be there,
And care where love is, ’tis the man and wife,
Through every estate that’s fix’d in life—
You are by this the city’s bridegroom prov’d,
And she stands wedded to her best belov’d:
Then be, according to your morning vows,
A careful husband to a loving spouse;
And heaven give you great joy,—both it and thee,
And to all those that shall match after ye!
_The names of those beasts bearing fur, and now in use
with the bountiful Society of Skinners, the most of
which presented in the Wilderness, where_ ORPHEUS
_predominates_.
Ermine, foine, sables, martin, badger, bear,
Luzern, budge, otter, hipponesse, and hare,
Lamb, wolf, fox, leopard, minx, stot, miniver,
Racoon, moashy, wolverin, caliber,
Squirrel, mole, cat, musk, civet, wild and tame,
Cony, white, yellow, black, must have a name,
The ounce, rowsgray, ginnet, pampilion;
Of birds the vulture, bitter, estridge,[340] swan:
Some worn for ornament, and some for health,
All to the Skinners’ art bring fame and wealth.
The service being thus faithfully performed, both to
his lordship’s honour and to the credit and content of
his most generously bountiful Society, the season
commends all to silence; yet not without a little
leave taken to reward art with the comely dues that
belong unto it, which hath been so richly expressed in
the body of the Triumph with all the proper beauties
of workmanship, that the city may, without injury to
judgment, call it the masterpiece of her triumphs; the
credit of which workmanship I must justly lay upon the
deserts of master Garret Crismas[341] and master
Robert Norman, joined-partners in the performance.
THE SUN IN ARIES.
_The Sunne in Aries. A Noble Solemnity Performed
through the Citie, at the sole cost and charges of
the Honourable and ancient Fraternity of Drapers, At
the confirmation and establishment of their most
Worthy Brother the Right Honourable, Edward Barkham,
in the high Office of his Maiesties Lieutenant, the
lord Maior of the famous Citie of London. Taking
beginning at his Lordships going, and perfecting it
selfe after his returne from receiuing the Oath of
Maioralty at Westminster, on the morrow after Simon
[and] Jvdes day, being the 29. of October. 1621. By
Tho. Middleton, Gent. At London: Printed by Ed.
All-de, for H. G. 1621._ 4to.
Reprinted in Nichols’s _Progresses of King James_, vol.
iv. p. 724.
_To the honour of him to whom the noble Fraternity of
Drapers, his worthy brothers, have dedicated their
loves in costly Triumphs, the Right Honourable_
EDWARD BARKHAM, _Lord Mayor of this renowned City_.
Your Honour being the centre where the lines
Of this day’s glorious circle meets and joins,
Love, joy, cost, triumph, all by you made blest,
There does my service too desire to rest,
At your Lordship’s command,
THO. MIDDLETON.
THE SUN IN ARIES.
----------
Pisces being the last of the signs and the wane of the
Sun’s glory, how fitly and desiredly now the Sun enters
into Aries, for the comfort and refreshing of the
creatures, and may be properly called the spring-time of
right and justice, observed by the shepherd’s calendar
in the mountain, to prove a happy year for poor men’s
causes, widows’ and orphans’ comforts; so much to make
good the Sun’s entrance into that noble sign; I doubt
not but the beams of his justice will make good
themselves.
And first to begin with the worthy love of his
honourable Society to his lordship, after his honour’s
return from Westminster, having received some service
upon the water. The first Triumph by land attends his
lordship’s most wished arrival in Paul’s-Churchyard,
which is a chariot most artfully framed and adorned,
bearing the title of the Chariot of Honour; in which
chariot many worthies are placed that have got trophies
of honour by their labours and deserts; such as Jason,
whose illustration of honour is the golden fleece;
Hercules with his _ne plus ultra_ upon pilasters of
silver; a fair globe for conquering Alexander; a gilt
laurel for triumphant Cæsar, &c. Jason, at the approach
of his lordship, being the personage most proper, by his
manifestation, for the Society’s honour, lends a voice
to these following words:
_The speech presented by_ JASON.
Be favourable, Fates, and a fair sky
Smile on this expedition! Phœbus’ eye,
Look cheerfully! the bark is under sail
For a year’s voyage, and a blessèd gale
Be ever with it! ’tis for justice bound,
A coast that’s not by every compass found,
And goes for honour, life’s most precious trading;
May it return with most illustrious lading!
A thing both wish’d and hop’d for. I am he,
To all adventurous voyages a free
And bountiful well-wisher, by my name
Hight[342] Jason, first adventurer for fame,
Which now rewards my danger, and o’ertops
The memory of all peril or her stops;
Assisted by the noble hopes of Greece,
’Twas I from Colchis fetch’d the golden fleece;
And one of the first brothers on record
Of honour got by danger. So, great lord,
There is no voyage set forth to renown,
That does not sometimes meet with skies that frown,
With gusts of envy, billows of despite,
Which makes the purchase, once achiev’d, more bright.
State is a sea; he must be wise indeed
That sounds its depth, or can the quicksands heed;
And honour is so nice and rare a prize,
’Tis watch’d by dragons, venomous enemies;
Then no small care belongs to’t: but as I,
With my assisting Argonauts, did try
The utmost of adventure, and with bold
And constant courage brought the fleece of gold,
Whose illustration decks my memory
Through all posterities, naming but me,—
So, man of merit, never faint or fear;
Thou hast th’ assistance of grave senators here,
Thy worthy brethren, some of which have past
All dangerous gulfs, and in their bright fames plac’d,
They can instruct and guide thee, and each one
That must adventure, and are coming on
To this great expedition; they will be
Cheerful and forward to encourage thee;
And blessings fall in a most infinite sum
Both on those past, thyself, and those to come!
Passing from this, and more to encourage the labour of
the magistrate, he is now conducted to the master
Triumph, called the Tower of Virtue, which for the
strength, safety, and perpetuity, bears the name of the
Brazen Tower; of which Integrity keeps the keys, virtue
being indeed as a brazen wall to a city or commonwealth;
and to illustrate the prosperity it brings to a kingdom,
the top turrets or pinnacles of this Brazen Tower shine
bright like gold; and upon the gilded battlements
thereof stand six knights, three in silvered and three
in gilt armour, as Virtue’s standard-bearers or
champions, holding six little streamers or silver
bannerets, in each of which are displayed the arms of a
noble brother and benefactor, Fame sounding forth
their praises to the world, for the encouragement of
after-ages, and Antiquity, the register of Fame,
containing in her golden legend their names and titles;
as that of Sir Henry Fitz-Alwin, draper, lord mayor
four-and-twenty years together; Sir John Norman, the
first that was rowed in barge to Westminster with silver
oars, at his own cost and charges; Sir Francis Drake,
the son of Fame, who in two years and ten months did
cast a girdle about the world; the unparalleled Sir
Simon Eyre, who built Leadenhall at his own cost, a
store-house for the poor, both in the upper lofts and
lower; the generous and memorable Sir Richard Champion
and Sir John Milborne, two bountiful benefactors; Sir
Richard Hardell, in the seat of magistracy six years
together; Sir John Poultney, four years, which Sir John
founded a college in the parish of St. Lawrence
Poultney, by Candlewick Street; John Hinde, a re-edifier
of the parish church of St. Swithin by London Stone; Sir
Richard Pipe, who being free of the Leather-sellers, was
also from them translated to the ancient and honourable
Society of Drapers; and many whose names, for brevity’s
cause, I must omit, and hasten to the honour and service
of the time present. From the tower, Fame, a personage
properly adorned, thus salutes the great master of the
day and triumph:
_The salutation of_ FAME.
Welcome to Virtue’s fortress, strong and clear!
Thou art not only safe but glorious here;
It is a tower of brightness: such is Truth,
Whose strength and grace feel[343] a perpetual youth;
The walls are brass, the pyramids fine gold,
Which shews ’tis Safety’s and Prosperity’s hold;
Clear Conscience is lieutenant; Providence there,
Watchfulness, Wisdom, Constancy, Zeal, Care,
Are the six warders keep the watch-tower sure,
That nothing enters but what’s just and pure;
For which effect, both to affright and shame
All slothful bloods that blush to look on Fame,
An ensign of good actions each displays,
That worthy works may justly own their praise;
And which is clearliest to be understood,
Thine shines amidst thy glorious brotherhood,
Circled with arms of honour by those past,
As now with love’s arms by the present grac’d;
And how thy word[344] does thy true worth display,
_Fortunæ mater Diligentia_,
Fair Fortune’s mother, all may read and see,
Is Diligence, endeavouring industry.
See here the glory of illustrious acts,
All of thy own fraternity, whose tracts
’Tis comely to pursue, all thy life’s race,
Taking their virtues as thou hold’st their place;
Some, college-founders, temple-beautifiers,
Whose blest souls sing now in celestial quires;
Erecters some of granaries for the poor,
Though now converted to some rich men’s store,—
The more the age’s misery! some so rare
For this fam’d city’s government and care,
They kept the seat four years, with a fair name;
Some, six; but one, the miracle of fame,
Which no society or time can match,
Twenty-four years complete; he was Truth’s watch,
He went so right and even, and the hand
Of that fair motion bribe could ne’er make stand;
And as men set their watches by the sun,
Set justice but by that which he has done,
And keep it even; so, from men to men,
No magistrate need stir the work agen:[345]
It lights into a noble hand to-day,
And has past many—many more it may.
By this Tower of Virtue—his lordship being gracefully
conducted toward the new Standard—one in a cloudy,
ruinous habit, leaning upon the turret, at a trumpet’s
sounding suddenly starts and wakes, and, in amazement,
throws off his unseemly garments.
What noise is this wakes me from ruin’s womb?
Hah! bless me, Time, how brave am I become!
Fame fix’d upon my head! beneath me, round,
The figures of illustrious princes, crown’d
As well for goodness as for state by birth,
Which makes ’em true heirs both to heaven and earth!
Just six in number, and all blessèd names,
Two Henrys, Edward, Mary, Eliza, James,
That joy of honest hearts; and there behold
His honour’d substitute, whom worth makes bold
To undergo the weight of this degree,
Virtue’s fair edifice, rais’d up like me:
Why, here’s the city’s goodness, shewn in either,
To raise[346] two worthy buildings both together;
For when they made that lord’s election free,
I guess that time their charge did perfect me;
Nay, note the city’s bounty in both still;
When they restore a ruin, ’tis their will
To be so noble in their cost and care,
All blemish is forgot when they repair;
For what has been re-edified a’ late,
But lifts its head up in more glorious state;
’Tis grown a principle, ruins built agen
’Come better’d both in monuments and men;
The instance is apparent. On then, lord;
E’en at thy entrance thou’dst a great man’s word,
The noblest testimony of fair worth
That ever lord had, when he first stood forth
Presented by the city: lose not then
A praise so dear, bestow’d not on all men;
Strive to preserve this famous city’s peace,
Begun by yon first king, which does increase
Now by the last; from Henry that join’d Roses,
To James that unites kingdoms, who encloses
All in the arms of love, malic’d of none;
Our hearts find that, when neighbouring kingdoms groan;
Which in the magistrate’s duty may well move
A zealous care, in all a thankful love.
After this, for the full close of the forenoon’s
Triumph, near St. Laurence-Lane stands a mountain,
artfully raised and replenished with fine woolly
creatures; Phœbus on the top, shining in a full glory,
being circled with the Twelve Celestial Signs. Aries,
placed near the principal rays, the proper sign for
illustration, thus greets his lordship:
Bright thoughts, joy, and alacrity of heart
Bless thy great undertakings! ’tis the part
And property of Phœbus with his rays
To cheer and to illumine good men’s ways;
Eagle-ey’d actions, that dare behold
His sparkling globe depart tried all like gold;
’Tis bribery and injustice, deeds of night,
That fly the sunbeam, which makes good works bright;
Thine look upon’t undazzled; as one beam
Faces another, as we match a gem
With her refulgent fellow, from thy worth
Example sparkles as a star shoots forth.
This Mount, the type of eminence and place,
Resembles magistracy’s seat and grace;
The Sun the magistrate himself implies;
These woolly creatures, all that part which lies
Under his charge and office; not unfit,
Since kings and rulers are, in holy writ,
With shepherds parallel’d, nay, from shepherds rear’d,
And people and the flock as oft coher’d.
Now, as it is the bounty of the sun
To spread his splendours and make gladness run
Over the drooping creatures, it ought so
To be his proper virtue, that does owe
To justice his life’s flame, shot from above,
To cheer oppressèd right with looks of love;
Which nothing doubted, Truth’s reward light on you,
The beams of all clear comforts shine upon you!
The great feast ended, the whole state of the Triumph
attends upon his lordship, both to Paul’s and homeward;
and near the entrance of his lordship’s house, two parts
of the Triumph stand ready planted, viz. the Brazen
Tower and the triple-crowned Fountain of Justice, this
fountain being adorned with the lively figures of all
those graces and virtues which belong to the faithful
discharging of so high an office; as Justice, Sincerity,
Meekness, Wisdom, Providence, Equality, Industry, Truth,
Peace, Patience, Hope, Harmony, all illustrated by
proper emblems and expressions; as, Justice by a sword;
Sincerity by a lamb; Meekness by a dove; Wisdom by a
serpent; Providence by an eagle; Equality by a silvered
balance; Industry by a golden ball, on which stands a
Cupid, intimating that industry brings both wealth and
love; Truth with a fan of stars, with which she chases
away Error; Peace with a branch of laurel; Patience a
sprig of palm; Hope by a silvered anchor; Harmony by a
swan; each at night holding a bright-burning taper in
her hand, as a manifestation of purity. His lordship
being in sight, and drawing near to his entrance,
Fame, from the Brazen Tower, closes up the Triumph—
his lordship’s honourable welcome, with the noble
demonstration of his worthy fraternity’s affection—in
this concluding speech:
FAME.
I cannot better the comparison
Of thy fair brotherhood’s love than to the sun
After a great eclipse; for as the sphere
Of that celestial motion shines more clear
After the interposing part is spent,
Than to the eye before the darkness went
Over the bright orb; so their love is shewn
With a content past expectation,
A care that has been comely, and a cost
That has been decent, cheerful, which is most,
Fit for the service of so great a state,
So fam’d a city, and a magistrate
So worthy of it; all has been bestow’d
Upon thy triumph, which has clearly shew’d
The loves of thy fraternity as great
For thy first welcome to thy honour’d seat;
And happily is cost requited then,
When men grace triumphs more than triumphs men:
Diamonds will shine though set in lead; true worth
Stands always in least need of setting forth.
What makes less noise than merit? or less show
Than virtue? ’tis the undeservers owe
All to vain-glory and to rumour still,
Building their praises on the vulgar will;
All their good is without ’em, not their own;
When wise men to their virtues are best known.
Behold yon Fountain with the tripled crown,
And through a cloud the sunbeam piercing down;
So is the worthy magistrate made up;
The triple crown is Charity, Faith, and Hope,
Those three celestial sisters; the cloud too,
That’s Care, and yet you see the beam strikes through;
A care discharg’d with honour it presages,
And may it so continue to all ages!
It is thy brotherhood’s arms; how well it fits
Both thee and all that for Truth’s honour sits!
The time of rest draws near; triumph must cease;
Joy to thy heart—to all a blessèd peace!
For the frame-work of the whole Triumph, with all the
proper beauties of workmanship, the credit of that
justly appertains to the deserts of master Garret
Crismas,[347] a man excellent in his art, and faithful
in his performances.
THE TRIUMPHS OF INTEGRITY.
_The Trivmphs of Integrity. A Noble Solemnity, performed
through the City, at the sole Cost and Charges of the
Honorable Fraternity of Drapers, at the Confirmation and
Establishment of their most worthy Brother, the Right
Honorable, Martin Lumley, in the high Office of his
Maiesties Lieutenant, Lord Maior and Chancellor of the
famous City of London. Taking beginning at his Lordships
going, and perfecting it selfe after His Returne from
receiuing the Oath of Maioralty at Westminster, on the
Morrow after Simon and Judes Day, being the 29. of
October. 1623. By Tho. Middleton Gent. London, Printed
by Nicholas Okes, dwelling in Foster-Lane. 1623._ 4to.
_To the honour of him to whom the noble Fraternity of
Drapers, his worthy brothers, have consecrated their
loves in costly Triumphs, the Right Honourable_
MARTIN LUMLEY, _Lord Mayor of this renowned City_.
Thy descent worthy, fortune’s early grace,
Sprung of an ancient and most generous race,
Match’d with a virtuous lady, justly may
Challenge the honour of so great a day.
Faithfully devoted to the worthiness of you both,
THO. MIDDLETON.
THE
TRIUMPHS OF INTEGRITY;
OR,
A NOBLE SOLEMNITY THROUGH THE CITY.
Of all solemnities by which the happy inauguration of a
subject is celebrated, I find none that transcends the
state and magnificence of that pomp prepared to receive
his Majesty’s great substitute into his honourable
charge, the city of London, dignified by the title of
the King’s Chamber Royal; which, that it may now appear
no less heightened with brotherly affection, cost, art,
or invention, than some other preceding triumphs—by
which of late times the city’s honour hath been more
faithfully illustrated—this takes its fit occasion to
present itself.
And first to specify the love of his noble fraternity,
after his lordship’s return from Westminster, having
received some service upon the water by a proper and
significant masterpiece of triumph called the Imperial
Canopy, being the ancient arms of the Company, an
invention neither old nor enforced, the same glorious
and apt property,[348] accompanied with four other
triumphal pegmes,[349] are, in their convenient stages,
planted to honour his lordship’s progress through the
city: the first for the land, attending his most
wished arrival in Paul’s-Churchyard, which bears the
inscription of a Mount Royal, on which mount are placed
certain kings and great commanders, which ancient
history produces, that were originally sprung from
shepherds and humble beginnings: only the number of six
presented; some with crowns, some with gilt laurels,
holding in their hands silver sheep-hooks; viz. Viriat,
a prime commander of the Portugals—renowned amongst the
historians, especially the Romans—who, in battles of
fourteen years’ continuance, purchased many great and
honourable victories; Arsaces, king of the Parthians,
who ordained the first kingdom that ever was amongst
them, and in the reverence of this king’s name and
memory all others his successors were called Arsacides
after his name, as the Roman emperors took the name of
Cæsar for the love of great Cæsar Augustus; also Marcus
Julius Lucinus; Bohemia’s Primislaus; the emperor
Pertinax; the great victor Tamburlain, conqueror of
Syria, Armenia, Babylon, Mesopotamia, Scythia, Albania,
&c. Many honourable worthies more I could produce, by
their deserts ennobling their mean originals; but for
the better expression of the purpose in hand, a speaker
lends a voice to these following words:
_The speech in the Mount Royal._
They that with glory-inflam’d hearts desire
To see great worth deservingly aspire,
Let ’em draw near and fix a serious eye
On this triumphant Mount of Royalty;
Here they shall find fair Virtue, and her name,
From low, obscure beginnings, rais’d to fame,
Like light struck out of darkness: the mean wombs
No more eclipse brave merit than rich tombs
Make the soul happy; ’tis the life and dying
Crowns both with honour’s sacred satisfying;
And ’tis the noblest splendour upon earth
For man to add a glory to his birth,
All his life’s race with honour’d acts commix’d,
Than to be nobly born, and there stand fix’d,
As if ’twere competent virtue for whole life
To be begot a lord: ’tis virtuous strife
That makes the complete Christian, not high place,
As true submission is the state of grace:
The path to bliss lies in the humblest field;
Who ever rise[350] to heaven that never kneel’d?
Although the roof hath supernatural height,
Yet there’s no flesh can thither go upright.
All this is instanc’d only to commend
The low condition whence these kings descend.
I spare the prince of prophets[351] in this file,
And preserve him for a far holier style,
Who, being king anointed, did not scorn
To be a shepherd after: these were born
Shepherds, and rise to kings; took their ascending
From the strong hand of Virtue, never ending
Where she begins to raise, until she place
Her love-sick servants equal with her grace:
And by this day’s great honour it appears
Sh’as much prevail’d amongst the reverend years
Of these grave senators; chief of the rest,
Her favour hath reflected most and best
Upon that son whom we of honour call;
And may’t successively reflect on all!
From this Mount Royal, beautified with the glory of
deserving aspirers, descend we to the modern use of
this ancient and honourable mystery, and there we
shall find the whole livery of this most renowned and
famous city, as upon this day, at all solemn meetings
furnished by it: it clothes the honourable senators in
their highest and richest wearings, all courts of
justice, magistrates, and judges of the land.
By this time his lordship and the worthy Company being
gracefully conducted toward the Little Conduit in Cheap,
there another part of the Triumph waits his honour’s
happy approach, being a chariot artfully framed and
properly garnished; and on the conspicuous part thereof
is placed the register of all heroic acts and worthy
men, bearing the title of Sacred Memory, who, for the
greater fame of this honourable fraternity, presents the
never-dying names of many memorable and remarkable
worthies of this ancient Society, such as were the
famous for state and government: Sir Henry Fitz-Alwin,
Knight, who held the seat of magistracy in this city
twenty-four years together; he sits figured under the
person of Government: Sir John Norman, the first lord
mayor rowed in barge to Westminster with silver oars at
his own cost and charges, under the person of Honour:
the valiant Sir Francis Drake, that rich ornament to
memory, who in two years and ten months’ space did cast
a girdle about the world, under the person of Victory:
Sir Simon Eyre, who at his own cost built Leadenhall, a
granary for the poor, under the figure of Charity: Sir
Richard Champion and Sir John Milborne, under the person
of Munificence or Bounty: Sir Richard Hardell and Sir
John Poultney, the one in the seat of magistracy six
years, the other four years together, under the
figures of Justice and Piety, that Sir John being a
college-founder in the parish of St. Laurence Poultney,
by Candlewick Street; _et sic de ceteris_: this Chariot
drawn by two pelleted lions, being the proper supporters
of the Company’s arms; those two upon the lions
presenting Power and Honour, the one in a little
streamer or banneret bearing the Lord Mayor’s arms, the
other the Company’s.
_The speech in the Chariot._
I am all Memory, and methinks I see
Into the farthest time, act, quality,
As clear as if ’twere now begun agen,[352]
The natures, dispositions, and the men:
I find to goodness they all bent their powers,
Which very name makes blushing times of ours;
They heap’d up virtues long before they were old,
This age sits laughing upon heaps of gold;
We by great buildings strive to raise our names,
But they more truly wise built up their fames,
Erected fair examples, large and high,
Patterns for us to build our honours by:
For instance only, Memory relates
The noblest of all city-magistrates,
Famous Fitz-Alwin; naming him alone,
I sum up twenty-four lord mayors in one,
For he, by free election and consent,
Fill’d all those years with virtuous government:
Custom and time requiring now but one,
How ought that year to be well dwelt upon!
It should appear an abstract of that worth
Which former times in many years brought forth:
Through all the life of man this is the year
Which many wish and never can come near;
Think, and give thanks; to whom this year does come,
The greatest subject’s made in Christendom:
This is the year for whom some long prepar’d,
And others have their glorious fortune shar’d;
But serious in thanksgiving; ’tis a year
To which all virtues, like the people here,
Should throng and cleave together, for the place
Is a fit match for the whole stock of grace;
And as men gather wealth ’gainst the year comes,
So should they gather goodness with their sums;
For ’tis not shows, pomp, nor a house of state
Curiously deck’d, that makes a magistrate;
’Tis his fair, noble soul, his wisdom, care,
His upright justness to the oath he sware,
Gives him complete: when such a man to me
Spreads his arms open, there my palace be!
He’s both an honour to the day so grac’d,
And to his brotherhood’s love, that sees him plac’d;
And in his fair deportment there revives
The ancient fame of all his brothers’ lives.
After this, for the full close of the forenoon’s
triumph, near St. Laurence-Lane his lordship receives an
entertainment from an unparalleled masterpiece of art,
called the Crystal Sanctuary, styled by the name of the
Temple of Integrity, where her immaculate self, with all
her glorious and sanctimonious concomitants, sit,
transparently seen through the crystal; and more to
express the invention and the art of the engineer, as
also for motion, variety, and the content of the
spectators, this Crystal Temple is made to open in many
parts, at fit and convenient times, and upon occasion of
the speech: the columns or pillars of this Crystal
Sanctuary are gold, the battlements silver, the whole
fabric for the night-triumph adorned and beautified with
many lights, dispersing their glorious radiances on all
sides thorough the crystal.
_The speech from the Sanctuary._
Have you a mind, thick multitude, to see
A virtue near concerns magistracy,
Here on my temple throw your greedy eyes,
See me, and learn to know me, then you’re wise;
Look and look through me, I no favour crave,
Nor keep I hid the goodness you should have;
’Tis all transparent what I think or do,
And with one look your eye may pierce me through;
There’s no disguise or hypocritic veil,
Us’d by adulterous beauty set to sale,
Spread o’er my actions for respect or fear,
Only a crystal, which approves[353] me clear.
Would you desire my name? Integrity,
One that is ever what she seems to be;
So manifest, perspicuous, plain, and clear,
You may e’en see my thoughts as they sit here;
I think upon fair Equity and Truth,
And there they sit crown’d with eternal youth;
I fix my cogitations upon love,
Peace, meekness, and those thoughts come from above:
The temple of an upright magistrate
Is my fair sanctuary, throne, and state;[354]
And as I dare Detraction’s evill’st eye,
Sore at the sight of goodness, to espy
Into my ways and actions, which lie ope
To every censure, arm’d with a strong hope,—
So of your part ought nothing to be done,
But what the envious eye might look upon:
As thou art eminent, so must thy acts
Be all tralucent,[355] and leave worthy tracts
For future times to find, thy very breast
Transparent, like this place wherein I rest.
Vain doubtings! all thy days have been so clear,
Never came nobler hope to fill a year.
At the close of this speech this crystal Temple of
Integrity, with all her celestial concomitants and the
other parts of Triumph, take leave of his lordship for
that time, and rest from service till the great feast be
ended; after which the whole body of the Triumph attends
upon his honour, both towards Saint Paul’s and homeward,
his lordship accompanied with the grave and honourable
senators of the city, amongst whom the two worthy
consuls, his lordship’s grave assistants for the year,
the worshipful and generous master Ralph Freeman and
master Thomas Moulson, sheriffs and aldermen, ought not
to pass of my respect unremembered, whose bounty and
nobleness will prove best their own expressors.
Near the entrance of Wood Street, that part of Triumph
being planted to which the concluding speech hath
chiefly reference, and the rest about the Cross, I
thought fit in this place to give this its full
illustration, it being an invention both glorious
and proper to the Company, bearing the name of the
thrice-royal Canopy of State, being the honoured arms of
this fraternity, the three Imperial Crowns cast into the
form and bigness of a triumphal pageant, with cloud and
sunbeams, those beams, by enginous[356] art, made often
to mount and spread like a golden and glorious canopy
over the deified persons that are placed under it, which
are eight in number, figuring the eight Beatitudes; to
improve which[357] conceit, _Beati pacifici_, being the
king’s word or motto, is set in fair great letters near
the uppermost of the three crowns; and as in all great
edifices or buildings the king’s arms is especially
remembered, as a[n] honour to the building and builder,
in the frontispiece, so is it comely and requisite in
these matters of Triumph, framed for the inauguration of
his great substitute, the lord mayor of London, that
some remembrance of honour should reflect upon his
majesty, by whose peaceful government, under heaven, we
enjoy the solemnity.
_The speech, having reference to this Imperial Canopy,
being the Drapers’ arms._
The blessedness, peace, honour, and renown,
This kingdom does enjoy, under the crown
Worn by that royal peace-maker our king,
So oft preserv’d from dangers menacing,
Makes this arms, glorious in itself, outgo
All that antiquity could ever shew;
And thy fraternity hath striv’d t’ appear
In all their course worthy the arms they bear;
Thrice have they crown’d their goodness this one day,
With love, with care, with cost; by which they may,
By their deserts, most justly these arms claim,
Got once by worth, now trebly held by fame.
Shall I bring honour to a larger field,
And shew what royal business these arms yield?
First, the Three Crowns afford[358] a divine scope,
Set for the graces, Charity, Faith, and Hope,
Which three the only safe combiners be
Of kingdoms, crowns, and every company;
Likewise, with just propriety they may stand
For those three kingdoms, sway’d by the meek hand
Of blest James, England, Scotland, Ireland:
The Cloud that swells beneath ’em may imply
Some envious mist cast forth by heresy,
Which, through his happy reign and heaven’s blest will,
The sunbeams of the Gospel strike[359] through still;
More to assure it to succeeding men,
We have the crown of Britain’s hope agen,[360]
Illustrious Charles our prince, which all will say
Adds the chief joy and honour to this day;
And as three crowns, three fruits of brotherhood,
By which all love’s worth may be understood,
To threefold honour make[361] the royal suit,
In the king, prince, and the king’s substitute;
By th’ eight Beatitudes ye understand
The fulness of all blessings to this land,
More chiefly to this city, whose safe peace
Good angels guard, and good men’s prayers increase!
May all succeeding honour’d brothers be
With as much love brought home as thine bring[362] thee!
For all the proper adornments of art and workmanship in
so short a time, so gracefully setting forth the body of
so magnificent a Triumph, the praise comes, as a just
due, to the exquisite deservings of master Garret
Crismas,[363] whose faithful performances still take the
upper hand of his promises.
THE TRIUMPHS
OF
HEALTH AND PROSPERITY.
_The Trivmphs of Health and Prosperity. A noble Solemnity performed
through the City, at the sole Cost and Charges of the Honorable
Fraternity of Drapers, at the Inauguration of their most Worthy Brother,
the Right Honorable, Cuthbert Hacket, Lord Major of the Famous City of
London. By Tho. Middleton Gent. Imprinted at London by Nicholas Okes,
dwelling in Foster lane._ MDCXXVI. 4to.
_To the honour of him to whom the noble Fraternity of Drapers, his
worthy brothers, have consecrated their loves in magnificent
Triumphs, the Right Honourable_ CUTHBERT HACKET, _Lord Mayor of the
City of London_.
The city’s choice, thy Company’s free love,
This day’s unlook’d-for Triumph, all three prove
The happiness of thy life to be most great;
Add to these justice, and thou art complete.
At your Lordship’s command,
THOMAS MIDDLETON.
THE TRIUMPHS
OF
HEALTH AND PROSPERITY.
If you should search all chronicles, histories, records,
in what language or letter soever; if the inquisitive
man should waste the dear treasure of his time and
eyesight, he shall conclude his life only with this
certainty, that there is no subject upon earth received
into the place of his government with the like state and
magnificence as is his Majesty’s great substitute into
his honourable charge, the city of London, bearing the
inscription of the Chamber Royal; which, that it may now
appear to the world no less illustrated with brotherly
affection than former triumphal times have been
partakers of, this takes delight to present itself.
And first to enter the worthy love of his honourable
Society for his lordship’s return from Westminster,
having received some service by water, by the triumphant
Chariot of Honour, the first that attends his lordship’s
most wished arrival bears the title of the Beautiful
Hill or Fragrant Garden, with flowery banks, near to
which lambs and sheep are a-grazing. This platform, so
cast into a hill, is adorned and garnished with all
variety of odoriferous flowers; on the top, arched with
an artificial and curious rainbow, which both shews the
antiquity of colours, the diversity and nobleness, and
how much the more glorious and highly to be esteemed,
they being presented in that blessed covenant of mercy,
the bow in the clouds; the work itself encompassed with
all various fruits, and bears the name of the most
pleasant garden of England, the noble city of London,
the flowers intimating the sweet odours of their virtue
and goodnesses, and the fruits of their works of justice
and charity, which have been both honourable brothers
and bounteous benefactors of this ancient fraternity,
who are presented in a device following under the types
and figures of their virtues in their life-time, which
made them famous then and memorable for ever. And since
we are yet amongst the woolly creatures, that graze on
the beauty of this beautiful platform, come we to the
modern use of this noble mystery of ancient drapery, and
we shall find the whole livery of this renowned and
famous city furnished by it; it clothes the honourable
senators in their highest and chiefest wearing, all
courts of justice, magistrates, and judges of the land.
But for the better expression of the purpose in hand, a
speaker gives life to these following words:
_The speech in the Hill where the rainbow appears._
A cloud of grief hath shower’d upon the face
Of this sad city, and usurp’d the place
Of joy and cheerfulness, wearing the form
Of a long black eclipse in a rough storm;
With showers[364] of tears this garden was o’erflown,
Till mercy was, like the blest rainbow, shewn:
Behold what figure now the city bears!
Like gems unvalued,[365] her best joys she wears,
Glad as a faithful handmaid to obey,
And wait upon the honour of this day,
Fix’d in the king’s great substitute: delight,
Triumph, and pomp, had almost lost their right:
The garden springs again; the violet-beds,
The lofty flowers, bear up their fragrant heads;
Fruit overlade their trees, barns crack with store;
And yet how much the heavens wept before,
Threatening a second mourning! Who so dull,
But must acknowledge mercy was at full
In these two mighty blessings? what’s requir’d?
That which in conscience ought to be desir’d;
Care and uprightness in the magistrate’s place,
And in all men obedience, truth, and grace.
After this, awaits his lordship’s approach a masterpiece
of triumph, called the Sanctuary of Prosperity; on the
top arch of which hangs the Golden Fleece; which raises
the worthy memory of that most famous and renowned
brother of this Company, Sir Francis Drake, who in two
years and ten months did encompass the whole world,
deserving an eminent remembrance in this Sanctuary, who
never returned to his country without the golden fleece
of honour and victory: the four fair Corinthian columns
or pillars imply the four principal virtues, Wisdom,
Justice, Fortitude, Temperance, the especial upholders
of kingdoms, cities, and honourable societies.
_The speech in the Sanctuary upon the Fleece._
If Jason, with the noble hopes of Greece,
Who did from Colchis fetch the golden fleece,
Deserve a story of immortal fame,
That both the Asias celebrate his name;
What honour, celebration, and renown,
In virtue’s right, ought justly to be shewn
To the fair memory of Sir Francis Drake,
England’s true Jason, who did boldly make
So many rare adventures, which were held
For worth unmatch’d, danger unparallel’d;
Never returning to his country’s eye
Without the golden fleece of victory!
The world’s a sea, and every magistrate
Takes a year’s voyage when he takes this state:
Nor on these seas are there less dangers found
Than those on which the bold adventurer’s bound;
For rocks, gulfs, quicksands, here is malice, spite,
Envy, detraction of all noble right;
Vessels of honour those do threaten more
Than any ruin between sea and shore.
Sail, then, by the compass of a virtuous name,
And, spite of spites, thou bring’st the fleece of fame.
Passing from this, and more to encourage the noble
endeavours of the magistrate, his lordship and the
worthy Company are[366] gracefully conducted towards the
Chariot of Honour. On the most eminent seat thereof is
Government illustrated, it being the proper virtue by
which we raise the noble memory of Sir Henry Fitz-Alwin,
who held the seat of magistracy in this city twenty-four
years together, a most renowned brother of this Company:
in like manner, the worthy Sir John Norman, [that] first
rowed in barge to Westminster with silver oars, under
the person of Munificence: Sir Simon Eyre, that built
Leadenhall, a granary for the poor, under the type of
Piety; _et sic de ceteris_: this Chariot drawn by two
golden-pelleted lions, being the proper supporters of
the Company’s arms; those two that have their seats upon
the lions presenting Power and Honour, the one in a
little streamer or banneret bearing the arms of the
present lord mayor, the other of the late, the truly
generous and worthy Sir Allen Cotton, Knight, a
bounteous and a noble housekeeper, one that hath spent
the year of his magistracy to the great honour of the
city, and by the sweetness of his disposition, and the
uprightness of his justice and government, hath raised
up a fair lasting memory to himself and his posterity
for ever; at whose happy inauguration, though triumph
was not then in season—Death’s pageants[367] being only
advanced upon the shoulders of men—his noble deservings
were not thereby any way eclipsed:
_Est virtus sibi marmor, et integritate triumphat._
_The speech of Government._
With just propriety does this city stand,
As fix’d by fate, i’ the middle of the land;
It has, as in the body, the heart’s place,
Fit for her works of piety and grace;
The head her sovereign, unto whom she sends
All duties that just service comprehends;
The eyes may be compar’d, at wisdom’s rate,
To the illustrious councillors of state,
Set in that orb of royalty, to give light
To noble actions, stars of truth and right;
The lips the reverend clergy, judges, all
That pronounce laws divine or temporal;
The arms to the defensive part of men:
So I descend unto the heart agen,[368]
The place where now you are; witness the love
True brotherhood’s cost and triumph, all which move
In this most grave solemnity; and in this
The city’s general love abstracted is:
And as the heart, in its meridian seat,
Is styl’d the fountain of the body’s heat,
The first thing receives life, the last that dies,
Those properties experience well applies
To this most loyal city, that hath been
In former ages, as in these times, seen
The fountain of affection, duty, zeal,
And taught all cities through the commonweal;
The first that receives quickening life and spirit
From the king’s grace, which still she strives t’
inherit,
And, like the heart, will be the last that dies
In any duty toward good supplies.
What can express affection’s nobler fruit,
Both to the king, and you his substitute?
At the close of this speech, this Chariot of Honour
and Sanctuary of Prosperity, with all her graceful
concomitants, and the two other parts of Triumph, take
leave of his lordship for that time, and rest from
service till the great feast at Guildhall be ended;
after which the whole fabric of the Triumph attends
upon his honour both towards St. Paul’s and homeward,
his lordship accompanied with the grave and honourable
senators of the city, amongst whom the two worthy
shrieves, his lordship’s grave assistants for the
year, the worshipful and generous master Richard Fen
and master Edward Brumfield, ought not to pass of my
respect unremembered, whose bounty and nobleness for
the year will no doubt give the best expression to
their own worthiness. Between the Cross and the
entrance of Wood Street, that part of Triumph being
planted—being the Fragrant Garden of England with the
Rainbow—to which the concluding speech hath chiefly
reference, there takes its farewell of his lordship,
accompanied with the Fountain of Virtue, being the
fourth part of the Triumph.
_The last speech._
Mercy’s fair object, the celestial bow,
As in the morning it began to shew,
It closes up this great triumphal day,
And by example shews the year the way,
Which if power worthily and rightly spend,
It must with mercy both begin and end.
It is a year that crowns the life of man,
Brings him to peace with honour, and what can
Be more desir’d? ’tis virtue’s harvest-time,
When gravity and judgment’s in their prime:
To speak more happily, ’tis a time given
To treasure up good actions fit for heaven.
To a brotherhood of honour thou art fixt,
That has stood long fair in just virtue’s eye;
For within twelve years’ space thou art the sixt
That has been lord mayor of this Company.
This is no usual grace: being now the last,
Close the work nobly up, that what is past,
And known to be good in the former five,
May in thy present care be kept alive:
Then is thy brotherhood for their love and cost
Requited amply, but thy own soul most.
Health and a happy peace fill all thy days!
When thy year ends, may then begin thy praise!
For the fabric or structure of the whole Triumph, in so
short a time so gracefully performed, the commendation
of that the industry of master Garret Crismas[369] may
justly challenge; a man not only excellent in his art,
but faithful in his undertakings.
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON
PARAPHRASED.
_The Wisdome of Solomon Paraphrased. Written by Thomas
Middleton. A Jove surgit opus. Printed at London by
Valentine Sems, dwelling on Adling hil at the signe of
the white Swanne. 1597._ 4to.
_To the Right Honourable and my very good Lord, Robert
Devereux, Earl of Essex and Ewe, Viscount of
Hereford, Lord Ferrers of Chartley, Bourchier, and
Louvaine, Master of Her Majesty’s Horse and
Ordnance, Knight of the Honourable Order of the
Garter, and one of Her Majesty’s Most Honourable
Privy Council._
The summer’s harvest, right honourable, is long since
reaped, and now it is sowing-time again: behold, I
have scattered a few seeds upon the young ground of
unskilfulness; if it bear fruit, my labour is well
bestowed; but if it be barren, I shall have less joy to
set more. The husbandman observes the courses of the
moon, I the forces of your favour; he desireth sunshine,
I cheerful countenance, which once obtained, my harvest
of joy will soon be ripened. My seeds as yet lodge in
the bosom of the earth, like infants upon the lap of a
favourite, wanting the budding spring-time of their
growth, not knowing the east of their glory, the west of
their quietness, the south of their summer, the north of
their winter; but if the beams of your aspects lighten
the small moiety of a smaller implanting, I shall have
an every-day harvest, a fruition of content, a branch of
felicity.
Your Honour’s addicted in all observance,
THOMAS MIDDLETON.
TO THE GENTLEMEN-READERS.
----------
GENTLEMEN,—I give you the surveyance of my new-bought
ground, and will only stand unto your verdicts. I fear
me that the acres of my field pass the ankers of my
seed; if wanting seed, then I hope it will not be too
much seeded. This is my bare excuse; but, trust me, had
my wit been sufficient to maintain the freedom of my
will, then both should have been answerable to your
wishes; yet, nevertheless, think of it as a willing,
though not a fulfilling moiety. But what mean I? While I
thus argue, Momus and Zoïlus, those two ravens, devour
my seed, because I lack a scarecrow; indeed, so I may
have less than I have, when such foul-gutted ravens
swallow up my portion: if you gape for stuffing, hie
you to dead carrion carcasses, and make them your
ordinaries. I beseech you, gentlemen, let me have your
aid; and as you have seen the first practice of my
husbandry in sowing, so let me have your helping hands
unto my reaping.
Yours, devoted in friendship,
THOMAS MIDDLETON.
THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON
PARAPHRASED.
----------
CHAP. I.
Wisdom, elixir of the purest life, VER. 1
Hath taught her lesson to judicial views,
To those that judge a cause and end a strife,
Which sit[370] in judgment’s seat and justice use;
A lesson worthy of divinest care,
Quintessence of a true divinest fear:
Unwilling that exordium should retain
Her life-infusing speech, doth thus begin:
You, quoth she, that give remedy or pain,
Love justice, for injustice is a sin;
Give unto God his due, his reverend style,
And rather use simplicity than guile.
For him that guides the radiant eye of day, 2
Sitting in his star-chamber of the sky,
The horizons and hemispheres obey,
And winds, the fillers of vacuity;
Much less should man tempt God, when all obey,
But rather be a guide, and lead the way.
For tempting argues but a sin’s attempt,
Temptation is to sin associate;
So doing, thou from God art clean exempt,
Whose love is never plac’d in his love’s hate:
He will be found not of a tempting mind,
But found of those which he doth faithful find.
Temptation rather separates from God, 3
Converting goodness from the thing it was,
Heaping the indignation of his rod
To bruise our bodies like a brittle glass;
For wicked thoughts have still a wicked end,
In making God our foe, which was our friend.
They muster up revenge, encamp our hate,
Undoing what before they meant to do,
Stirring up anger and unlucky fate,
Making the earth their friend, the heaven their foe:
But when heaven’s guide makes manifest his power,
The earth their friends doth them like foes devour.
O foolish men, to war against your bliss! 4
O hateful hearts, where wisdom never reign’d!
O wicked thoughts, which ever thought amiss!
What have you reap’d? what pleasure have you gain’d?
A fruit in show, a pleasure to decay,
This have you got by keeping folly’s way.
For wisdom’s harvest is with folly nipt,
And with the winter of your vice’s frost,
Her fruit all scatter’d, her implanting ript,
Her name decayèd, her fruition lost:
Nor can she prosper in a plot of vice,
Gaining no summer’s warmth, but winter’s ice.
Thou barren earth, where virtues never bud; 5
The fruitless womb, where never fruits abide;
And thou dry-wither’d sap, which bears no good
But the dishonour of thy proud heart’s pride:
A seat of all deceit,—deceit deceiv’d,
Thy bliss a woe, thy woe of bliss bereav’d!
This place of night hath left no place for day,
Here never shines the sun of discipline,
But mischief clad in sable night’s array,
Thought’s apparition—evil angel’s sign;
These reign enhousèd with their mother night,
To cloud the day of clearest wisdom’s light.
O you that practise to be chief in sin, 6
Love’s hate, hate’s friend, friend’s foe, foe’s
follower,
What do you gain? what merit do you win,
To be blaspheming vice’s practiser?
Your gain is wisdom’s everlasting hate,
Your merit grief, your grief your life’s debate.
Thou canst not hide thy thought—God made thy thought,
Let this thy caveat be for thinking ill;
Thou know’st that Christ thy living freedom bought,
To live on earth according to his will:
God being thy creator, Christ thy bliss,
Why dost thou err? why dost thou do amiss?
He is both judge and witness of thy deeds, 7
He knows the volume which thy heart contains;
Christ skips thy faults, only thy virtue reads,
Redeeming thee from all thy vice’s pains:
O happy crown of mortal man’s content,
Sent for our joy, our joy in being sent!
Then sham’st thou not to err, to sin, to stray,
To come to composition with thy vice,
With new-purg’d feet to tread the oldest way,
Leading new sense unto thy old device?
Thy shame might flow in thy sin-flowing face,
Rather than ebb to make an ebb of grace.
For he which rules the orb of heaven and earth, 8
And the inequal course of every star,
Did know man’s thoughts and secrets at his birth,
Whether inclin’d to peace or discord’s jar:
He knows what man will be ere he be man,
And all his deeds in his life’s living span.
Then ’tis impossible that earth can hide
Unrighteous actions from a righteous God,
For he can see their feet in sin that slide,
And those that lodge in righteousness’ abode;
He will extend his mercy on the good,
His wrath on those in whom no virtues bud.
Many there be, that, after trespass done, 9
Will seek a covert for to hide their shame,
And range about the earth, thinking to shun
God’s heavy wrath and meritorious[371] blame;
They, thinking to fly sin, run into sin,
And think to end when they do new begin.
God made the earth, the earth denies their suit,
Nor can they harbour in the centre’s womb;
God knows their thoughts, although their tongues be
mute,
And hears the sounds from forth their bodies’ tomb:
Sounds? ah! no sounds, but man himself he hears,
Too true a voice of man’s most falsest fears.
O see destruction hovering o’er thy head, 10
Mantling herself in wickedness’ array!
Hoping to make thy body as her bed,
Thy vice her nutriment, thy soul her prey:
Thou hast forsaken him that was thy guide,
And see what follows to assuage thy pride!
Thy roaring vice’s noise hath cloy’d his ears,
Like foaming waves they have o’erwhelm’d thy joy;
Thy murmuring,[372] which thy whole body bears,
Hath bred thy wail, thy wail thy life’s annoy:
Unhappy thoughts, to make a soul’s decay,
Unhappy soul, in suffering thoughts to sway!
Then sith[373] the height of man’s felicity 11
Is plung’d within the puddle of misdeeds,
And wades amongst discredit’s infamy,
Blasting the merit of his virtues’ seeds;
Beware of murmuring,—the chiefest ill,
From whence all sin, all vice, all pains distil.
O heavy doom proceeding from a tongue,
Heavy-light tongue—tongue to thy own decay,
In virtue weak, in wickedness too strong,
To mischief prone, from goodness gone astray;
Hammer to forge misdeeds, to temper lies,
Selling thy life to death, thy soul to cries!
Must death needs pay the ransom of thy sin 12
With the dead carcass of descending spirit?
Wilt thou of force be snarèd in his gin,
And place thy error in destruction’s merit?
Life, seek not for thy death; death comes unsought,
Buying the life which not long since was bought.
Death and destruction never need[374] a call,
They are attendants on life’s pilgrimage,
And life to them is as their playing ball,
Grounded upon destruction’s anchorage;
Seek not for that which unsought will betide,
Ne’er wants destruction a provoking guide.
Will you needs act your own destruction? 13
Will you needs harbour your own overthrow?
Or will you cause your own eversion,
Beginning with despair, ending with woe?
Then dye your hearts in tyranny’s array,
To make acquittance of destruction’s pay.
What do you meditate but on your death?
What do you practise but your living fall?
Who of you all have any virtue’s breath,
But ready armèd at a mischief’s call?
God is not pleasèd at your vices’ savour,
But you best pleasèd when you lose his favour.
He made not death to be your conqueror, 14
But you to conquer over death and hell;
Nor you to be destruction’s servitor,
Enhousèd there where majesty should dwell:
God made man to obey at his behest,
And man to be obey’d of every beast.
He made not death to be our labour’s hire,
But we ourselves made death through our desert;
Here never was the kingdom of hell-fire,
Before the brand was kindled in man’s heart:
Now man defieth God, all creatures man,
Vice flourisheth, and virtue lieth wan.
O fruitful tree, whose root is always green, 15
Whose blossoms ever bud, whose fruits increase,
Whose top celestial virtue’s seat hath been,
Defended by the sovereignty of peace!
This tree is righteousness; O happy tree,
Immortalisèd by thine own decree!
O hateful plant, whose root is always dry,
Whose blossoms never bud, whose fruits decrease,
On whom sits the infernal deity,
To take possession of so foul a lease!
This plant is vice; O too unhappy plant,
Ever to die, and never fill death’s want!
Accursèd in thy growth, dead in thy root, 16
Canker’d with sin, shaken with every wind,
Whose top doth nothing differ from the foot,
Mischief the sap, and wickedness the rind;
So the ungodly, like this wither’d tree,
Is slack in doing good, in ill too free.
Like this their wicked growth, too fast, too slow;
Too fast in sloth, too slow in virtue’s haste;
They think their vice a friend when ’tis a foe,
In good, in wickedness, too slow, too fast:
And as this tree decays, so do they all,
Each one copartner of the other’s fall.
CHAP. II.
Indeed they do presage what will betide, 1
With the misgiving verdict of misdeeds;
They know a fall will follow after pride,
And in so foul a heart grow[375] many weeds:
Our life is short, quoth they; no, ’tis too long,
Lengthen’d with evil thoughts and evil tongue.
A life must needs be short to them that dies,
For life once dead in sin doth weakly live;
These die in sin, and mask in death’s disguise,
And never think that death new life can give;
They say, life dead can never live again:
O thoughts, O words, O deeds, fond,[376] foolish, vain!
Vild[377] life, to harbour where such death abodes, 2
Abodes worse than are thoughts, thoughts worse than
words,
Words half as ill as deeds, deeds sorrow’s odes,
Odes ill enchanters of too ill records!
Thoughts, words, and deeds, conjoinèd in one song
May cause an echo from destruction’s tongue.
Quoth they, ’tis chance whether we live or die,
Born or abortive, be or never be;
We worship Fortune, she’s our deity;
If she denies, no vital breath have we:
Here are we placèd in this orb of death,
This breath once gone, we never look for breath.
Between both life and death, both hope and fear, 3
Between our joy and grief, bliss and despair,
We here possess the fruit of what is here,
Born ever for to die, and die death’s heir:
Our heritage is death annex’d to life,
Our portion death, our death an endless strife.
What is our life, but our life’s tragedy,
Extinguish’d in a momentary time?
And life to murder life is cruelty,
Unripely withering in a flowery prime;
An[378] urn of ashes pleasing but the shows,
Once dry, the toiling spirit wandering goes.
Like as the traces of appearing clouds 4
Give[379] way when Titan re-salutes the sea,
With new-chang’d flames gilding the ocean’s floods,
Kissing the cabinet where Thetis lay:
So fares our life, when death doth give the wound,
Our life is led by death, a captive bound.
When Sol bestrides his golden mountain’s top,
Lightening heaven’s tapers with his living fire,
All gloomy powers have their diurnal stop,
And never gain[380] the darkness they desire;
So perisheth our name when we are dead,
Ourselves ne’er call’d to mind, our deeds ne’er read.
What is the time we have? what be our days? 5
No time, but shadow of what time should be,
Days in the place of hours, which never stays,
Beguiling sight of that which sight should see:
As soon as they begin, they have their fine;
Ne’er wax, still wane, ne’er stay, but still decline.
Life may be call’d the shadow of effect,
Because the cloud of death doth shadow it;
Nor can our life approaching death reject,
They both in one for our election sit;
Death follows life in every degree,
But life to follow death you never see.
Come we, whose old decrepit age doth halt, 6
Like limping winter, in our winter, sin;
Faulty we know we are—tush, what’s a fault?
A shadow’d vision of destruction’s gin;
Our life begun with vice, so let it end,
It is a servile labour to amend.
We joy’d in sin, and let our joys renew;
We joy’d in vice, and let our joys remain;
To present pleasures future hopes ensue,
And joy once lost, let us fetch back again:
Although our age can lend no youthful pace,
Yet let our minds follow our youthful race.
What though old age lies, heavy on our back, 7
Anatomy of an age-crookèd clime,
Let mind perform that which our bodies lack,
And change old age into a youthful time:
Two heavy things are more than one can bear;
Black may the garments be, the body clear.
Decaying things be needful of repair—
Trees eaten out with years must needs decline;
Nature in time with foul doth cloud her fair,
Begirting youthful days with age’s twine:
We live; and while we live, come let us joy;
To think of after-life, ’tis but a toy.
We know God made us in a living form, 8
But we’ll unmake, and make ourselves again;
Unmake that which is made, like winter’s storm,
Make unmade things to aggravate our pain:
God was our maker, and he made us good,
But our descent springs from another blood.
He made us for to live, we mean to die;
He made the heaven our seat, we make the earth;
Each fashion makes a contrariety,
God truest God, man falsest from his birth:
Quoth they, this earth shall be our chiefest heaven,
Our sin the anchor, and our vice the haven.
Let heaven in earth, and earth in heaven consist, 9
This earth is heaven, this heaven is earthly heaven;
Repugnant earth repugnant heaven resist,
We joy in earth, of other joys bereaven:
This is the paradise of our delight;
Here let us live, and die in heaven’s spite.
Here let the monuments of wanton sports
Be seated in a wantonness’ disguise;
Clos’d in the circuit of venereal forts,
To feed the long-starv’d sight of amour’s eyes;
Be this the chronicle of our content,
How we did sport on earth, still sport was spent.
But in the glory of the brightest day, 10
Heaven’s smoothest brow sometime is furrowèd,
And clouds usurp the clime in dim array,
Darkening the light which heaven had borrowèd;
So in this earthly heaven we daily see
That grief is placèd where delight should be.
Here live[381] the righteous, bane unto their lives,
O, sound from forth the hollow cave of woe!
Here live[381] age-crookèd fathers, widow’d wives—
Poor, and yet rich in fortune’s overthrow:
Let them not live; let us increase their want,
Make barren their desire, augment their scant.
Our law is correspondent to our doom, 11
Our law to doom, is dooming law’s offence;
Each one agreeth in the other’s room,
To punish that which strives and wants defence:
This, cedar-like, doth make the shrub to bend,
When shrubs do[382] waste their force but to contend.
The weakest power is subject to obey;
The mushrooms humbly kiss the cedar’s foot,
The cedar flourishes when they decay,
Because her strength is grounded on a root;
We are the cedars, they the mushrooms be,
Unabled shrubs unto an abled tree.
Then sith[383] the weaker gives the stronger place, 12
The young the elder, and the foot the top,
The low the high, the hidden powers the face,
All beasts the lion, every spring his stop;
Let those which practise contrariety
Be join’d to us with inequality.
They say that we offend, we say they do;
Their blame is laid on us, our blame on them;
They strike, and we retort the strucken blow;
So in each garment there’s a differing hem:
We end with contraries, as they begun,
Unequal sharing of what either won.
In this long conflict between tongue and tongue, 13
Tongue new beginning what one tongue did end,
Made this cold battle hot in either’s wrong,
And kept no pausing limits to contend;
One tongue was echo to the other’s sound,
Which breathèd accents between mouth and ground.
He which hath virtue’s arms upon his shield, 14
Draws his descent from an eternal king:
He knows discretion can make folly yield,
Life conquer death, and vice a captive bring;
The other, tutor’d by his mother sin,
Respects not deeds nor words, but hopes to win.
The first, first essence of immortal life, 15
Reproves the heart of thought, the eye of sight,
The ear of hearing ill, the mind of strife,
The mouth of speech, the body of despite;
Heart thinks, eyes see, ears hear,[384] minds meditate,
Mouth utters both the soul and body’s hate.
But nature, differing in each nature’s kind,
Makes differing hearts, each heart a differing
thought;
Some hath she made to see, some folly-blind,
Some famous, some obscure, some good, some naught:
So these, which differ[385] in each nature’s reason,
Had nature’s time when time was out of season.
Quoth they, he doth reprove our heart of thinking, 16
Our eyes of sight, our ears of hearing ill,
Our minds, our hearts, in meditation linking,
Our mouths in speaking of our body’s will;
Because heart, sight, and mind do disagree,
He’d make heart, sight, and mind of their decree.
He says, our heart is blinded with our eyes,
Our eyes are blinded with our blinded heart,
Our bodies on both parts defilèd lies,
Our mouths the trumpets of our vices’ smart;
Quoth he, God is my father, I his son,
His ways I take, your wicked ways I shun.
As meditated wrongs are deeper plac’d 17
Within the deep core[386] of a wrongèd mind,
So meditated words are[387] never past
Before their sounds a settled harbour find;
The wicked, answering to the latter words,
Begin[388] to speak as much as speech affords.
One tongue must answer, other tongues reply,
Beginning boasts require an ending fall;
Words lively spoke do sometimes wordless die,
If not, live echoes unto speeches call:
Let not the shadow smother up the deed,
The outward leaf differs from inward seed.
The shape and show of substance and effect 18
Do[389] shape the substance in the shadow’s hue,
And shadow put in substance will neglect
The wonted shadow of not being true:
Let substance follow substance, show a show,
And let not substance for the shadow go.
He that could give such admonition,
Such vaunting words, such words confirming vaunts,
As if his tongue had mounted to ambition,
Or climb’d the turrets which vain-glory haunts,
Now let his father, if he be his son,
Undo the knot which his proud boasts have spun.
We are his enemies, his chain our hands, 19
Our words his fetters, and our heart his cave,
Our stern embracements are his servile bands;
Where is the helper now which he should have?
In prison like himself, not to be found,
He wanteth help himself to be unbound.
Then sith[390] thy father bears it patiently,
To suffer torments, grief, rebuke, and blame,
’Tis needful thou should’st bear equality,
To see if meekness harbour in thy name:
Help, father, for thy son in prison lies!
Help, son, or else thy helpless father dies!
Thus is the righteous God and righteous man 20
Drown’d in oblivion with this vice’s reign;
God wanteth power (say they) of what we can,
The other would perform that which is vain;
Both faulty in one fault, and both alike
Must have the stroke which our law’s judgments strike.
He calls himself a son from heaven’s descent;
What can earth’s force avail ’gainst heaven’s defence?
His life by immortality is lent;
Then how can punishment his wrath incense?
Though death herself in his arraignment deck,
He hath his life’s preserver at a beck.
As doth the basilisk with poison’d sight 21
Blind every function of a mortal eye,
Disarm the body’s powers of vital might,
Rob heart of thought, make living life to die,
So do[391] the wicked with their vice’s look
Infect the spring of clearest virtue’s brook.
This basilisk, mortality’s chief foe,
And to the heart’s long-knitted artery,
Doth sometime perish at her shadow’s show,
Poisoning herself with her own poison’d eye:
Needs must the sting fall out with over-harming,
Needs must the tongue burn out in over-warming.
So fares it with the practisers of vice, 22
Laden with many venomous adders’ stings,
Sometimes are blinded with their own device,
And tune[392] that song which their destruction sings;
Their mischief blindeth their mischievous eyes,
Like basilisks, which in their shadow dies.
They go, and yet they cannot see their feet,
Like blinded pilgrims in an unknown way,
Blind in perceiving things which be most meet,
But need nor sight nor guide to go astray:
Tell them of good, they cannot understand;
But tell them of a mischief, that’s at hand.
The basilisk was made to blind the sight, 23
The adder for to sting, the worm to creep,
The viper to devour, the dog to bite,
The nightingale to wake when others sleep;
Only man differs from his Maker’s will,
Undoing what is good, and doing ill.
A godlike face he had, a heavenly hue, 24
Without corruption, image without spots;
But now is metamorphosèd anew,
Full of corruption, image full of blots;
Blotted by him that is the plot[393] of evil,
Undone, corrupted, vanquish’d by the devil.
CHAP. III.
But every cloud cannot hide Phœbus’ face, 1
Nor shut the casement of his living flame;
Nor is there every soul which wanteth grace,
Nor every heart seduc’d with mischief’s name:
Life cannot live without corruption,
World cannot be without destruction.
Nor is the body all corrupt, or world
Bent wholly unto wickedness’ assault;
The adder is not always seen uncurl’d,
Nor every soul found guilty in one fault;
Some good, some bad; but those whom virtues guard,
Heaven is their haven, comfort their reward.
Thrice-happy habitation of delight, 2
Thrice-happy step of immortality,
Thrice-happy souls to gain such heavenly sight,
Springing from heaven’s perpetuity!
O peaceful place! but O thrice-peaceful souls,
Whom neither threats nor strife nor wars controls!
They are not like the wicked, for they live;
Nor they like to the righteous, for they die;
Each of their lives a differing nature give:
One thinks that life ends with mortality,
And that the righteous never live again,
But die as subjects to a grievous pain.
What labouring soul refuseth for to sweat, 4
Knowing his hire, his payment, his reward,
To suffer winter’s cold and summer’s heat,
Assurèd of his labour’s due regard?
The bee with summer’s toil will lade her hive,
In winter’s frost to keep herself alive.
And what divinest spirit would not toil,
And suffer many torments, many pains,
This world’s destruction, heavy labour’s foil,
When heaven is their hire, heaven’s joy their gains?
Who would not suffer torments for to die,
When death’s reward is immortality?
Pain is the entrance to eternal joy; 5
Death endeth life, and death beginneth life,
Beginneth happy, endeth in annoy,
Begins immortal peace, ends mortal strife;
Then, seeing death and pains bring joy and heaven,
What need we fear death’s pain, when life is given?
Say sickness, or infirmity’s disease
(As many harms hang over mortal heads),
Should be his world’s reward; yet heaven hath ease,
A salve to cure, and quiet resting beds:
God maketh in earth’s world lament our pleasure,
That in heaven’s world delight might be our treasure.
Fair may the shadow be, the substance foul; 6
After the trial followeth the trust;
The clearest skin may have the foulest soul;
The purest gold will sooner take the rust;
The brook, though ne’er so clear, may take some soil;
The hart, though ne’er so strong, may take some foil.
Wouldst thou be counted just? make thyself just,
Or purify thy mire-bespotted heart;
For God doth try thy actions ere he trust,
Thy faith, thy deeds, thy words, and what thou art;
He will receive no mud for clearest springs,
Nor thy unrighteous words for righteous things.
As God is perfect God and perfect good, 7
So he accepteth none but perfect minds;
They ever prosper, flourish, live, and bud,
Like blessèd plants, far from destruction’s winds;
Still bud, ne’er fade, still flourish, ne’er decay;
Still rise, ne’er fall, still spring, ne’er fade away.
Who would not covet to be such a plant,
Who would not wish to stand in such a ground,
Sith[394] it doth neither fruit nor blessing want,
Nor aught which in this plant might not be found?
They are the righteous which enjoy this earth,
The figure of an ever-bearing birth.
The small is always subject to the great, 8
The young to him which is of elder time,
The lowest place unto the highest seat,
And pale-fac’d Phœbe to bright Phœbus’ clime;
Vice is not governor of virtue’s place,
But blushes for to see so bright a face.
Virtue is chief, and virtue will be chief,
Chief good, and chief Astræa, justice’ mate,
Both for to punish and to yield relief,
And have dominion over every state,
To right the wrongs which wickedness hath done,
Delivering nations from life-lasting moan.
O you, whose causes plungeth in despair, 9
Sad-fac’d petitioners with grief’s request!
What seek you? here’s nor justice nor her heir,
But woe and sorrow, with death’s dumb arrest;
Turn up your woe-blind eyes unto the sky,
There sits the judge can yield you remedy.
Trust in his power, he is the truest God,
True God, true judge, true justice, and true guide;
All truth is placèd in his truth’s abode,
All virtues seated at his virtuous side;
He will regard your suit, and ease your plaint,
And mollify your misery’s constraint.
Then shall you see the judges of the earth 10
Summonèd with the trumpet of his ire,
To give account and reckoning from their birth,
Where[395] worthy or unworthy of their hire:
The godly shall receive their labour’s trial,
The wicked shall receive their joy’s denial.
They which did sleep in sin, and not regarded
The poor man’s fortune prostrate at their feet,
Even as they dealt, so shall they be rewarded,
When they their toilèd souls’ destruction meet;
From judges they petitioners shall be,
Yet want the sight which they do sue to see.
That labour which is grounded on delight, 11
That hope which reason doth enrich with hap,
That merit which is plac’d in wisdom’s might,
Secure from mischief’s bait or folly’s clap,
Wit’s labour, reason’s hope, and wisdom’s merit,
All three in one, make one thrice-happy spirit.
Why set I happiness ’fore mortal eyes,
Which covet[396] to be drench’d in misery,
Mantling their foolish minds in folly’s guise,
Despising wisdom’s perpetuity?
Sin’s labour, folly’s hope, and vice’s merit,
These three in one make a thrice-cursèd spirit.
Vain hope must needs consist in what is vain; 12
All foolish labours flow[397] from folly’s tears;
Unprofitable works proceed from pain,
And pain ill labour’s duest guerdon bears;
Three[398] vanities in one, and one in three,
Make three pains one, and one uncertainty.
A wicked king makes a more wicked land;
Heads once infected soon corrupt[399] the feet;
If the tree falls, the branches cannot stand,
Nor children, be their parents indiscreet;
The man infects the wife, the wife the child,
Like birds which in one nest be all defil’d.
The field which never was ordain’d to bear 13
Is happier far than a still-tillèd ground;
This sleeps with quietness in every year,
The other curs’d if any tares be found;
The barren happier than she that bears,
This brings forth joy, the other tares and tears.
The eunuch never lay in vice’s bed, 14
The barren woman never brought forth sin;
These two in heaven’s happiness are led,
She fruit in soul, he fruit in faith doth win:
O rare and happy man, for ever blest!
O rare and happy woman, heaven’s guest!
Who seeks to reap before the corn be ripe? 15
Who looks for harvest among winter’s frost?
Or who in grief will follow pleasure’s pipe?
What mariner can sail upon the coast?
That which is done in time is done in season,
And things done out of time are[400] out of reason.
The glorious labour is in doing good,
In time’s observance, and in nature’s will,
Whose fruit is also glorious for our food,
If glory may consist in labour’s skill,
Whose root is wisdom, which shall never wither,
But spring, and sprout, and love, and live together.
But every ground doth not bear blessèd plants, 16
Nor every plant brings forth expected fruit;
What this same ground may have, another wants;
Nor are all causes answer’d with one suit:
That tree whose root is sound, whose grounding strong,
May firmly stand when others lie along.
View nature’s beauty, mark her changing hue,
She is not always foul, not always fair,
Chaste and unchaste she is, true and untrue,
And some spring[401] from her in a lustful air;
And these adulterers be, whose seed shall perish;
Never shall lust and wickedness long flourish.
Although the flint be hard, the water soft, 17
Yet is it mollified with lightest drops;
Hard is the water when the wind’s aloft;
Small things in time may vanquish greatest stops:
The longer grows the tree, the greater moss;
The longer soil remains, the more the dross.
The longer that the wicked live[402] on earth,
The greater is their pain, their sin, their shame,
The greater vice’s reign and virtue’s dearth,
The greater goodness’ lack and mischief’s name;
When in their youth no honour they could get,
Old age could never pay so young a debt.
To place an honour in dishonour’s place, 18
Were but to make disparagement of both;
Both enemies, they could not brook the case,
For honour to subvert dishonour’s growth:
Dishonour will not change for honour’s room,
She hopes to stay after their bodies’ doom.
Or live they long, or die they suddenly,
They have no hope, nor comfort of reward;
Their hope of comfort is iniquity,
The bar by which they from their joys are barr’d:
O old-new end, made to begin new grief!
O new beginning, end of old relief!
CHAP. IV.
If happiness may harbour in content, 1
If life in love, if love in better life,
Then unto many happiness is lent,
And long-departed joy might then be rife:[403]
Some happy if they live, some if they die,
Happy in life, happy in tragedy.
Content is happiness because content;
Bareness and barrenness are[404] virtue’s grace,
Bare because wealth to poverty is bent,
Barren in that it scorns ill-fortune’s place;
The barren earth is barren of her tares,
The barren woman barren of her cares.
The soul of virtue is eternity, 2
All-filling essence of divinest rage;
And virtue’s true eternal memory
Is barrenness, her soul’s eternal gage:
O happy soul, that is engagèd there,
And pawns his life that barren badge to wear!
See how the multitude, with humble hearts,
Lies prostrate for to welcome her return!
See how they mourn and wail when she departs!
See how they make their tears her trophy’s urn!
Being present, they desire her; being gone,
Their hot desire is turn’d to hotter moan.
As every one hath not one nature’s mould, 3
So every one hath not one nature’s mind;
Some think that dross which others take for gold,
Each difference cometh from a differing kind;
Some do despise what others do embrace,
Some praise the thing which others do disgrace.
The barren doth embrace their barrenness,
And hold it as a virtue-worthy meed;
The other calls conception happiness,
And hold it as a virtue-worthy deed;
The one is firmly grounded on a rock,
The other billows’ game and tempests’ mock.
Sometime the nettle groweth with the rose; 4
The nettle hath a sting, the rose a thorn;
This stings the hand, the other pricks the nose,
Harming that scent which her sweet birth had borne;
Weeds among herbs, herbs among weeds are found,
Tares in the mantle of a corny ground.
The nettle’s growth is fast, the rose’s slow,
The weeds outgrow the herbs, the tares the corn;
These may be well compar’d to vice’s show,
Which covets for to grow ere it be born:
As greatest danger doth pursue fast going,
So greatest danger doth ensue fast growing.
The tallest cedar hath the greatest wind, 5
The highest tree is subject unto falls;
High-soaring eagles soon are strucken blind;
The tongue must needs be hoarse with many calls:
The wicked, thinking for to touch the sky,
Are blasted with the fire of heaven’s eye.
So like ascending and descending air,
Both dusky vapours from two humorous clouds,
Lies witherèd the glory of their fair;[405]
Unpleasant branches wrench’d in folly’s floods;
Unprofitable fruits, like to a weed,
Made only to infect, and not to feed.
Made for to make a fast, and not a feast, 6
Made rather for infection than for meat,
Not worthy to be eaten of a beast,
Thy taste so sour, thy poison is so great;
Thou may’st be well comparèd to a tree,
Because thy branches are as ill as thee.
Thou hast begot thine own confusion,
The witnesses of what thou dost begin,
Thy doomers in thy life’s conclusion,
Which will, unask’d and ask’d, reveal thy sin:
Needs must the new-hatch’d birds bewray the nest,
When they are nursèd in a step-dame’s breast.
But righteousness is of another sex, 7
Her root is from an everlasting seed,
No weak, unable grounding doth connex
Her never-limited memorial’s deed;
She hath no branches for a tempest’s prey,
No deeds but scorns to yield unto decay.
She hath no wither’d fruit, no show of store,
But perfect essence of a complete power;
Say that she dies to world, she lives the more,
As who so righteous but doth wait death’s hour?
Who knows not death to be the way to rest?
And he that never dies is never blest.
Happy is he that lives, twice he that dies, 8
Thrice happy he which neither liv’d nor died,
Which never saw the earth with mortal eyes,
Which never knew what miseries are tried:
Happy is life, twice happy is our death,
But three times thrice he which had never breath.
Some think[406] that pleasure is achiev’d by years,
Or by maintaining of a wretched life,
When, out, alas! it heapeth tears on tears,
Grief upon grief, strife on beginning strife:
Pleasure is weak, if measurèd by length;
The oldest ages have[407] the weaker strength.
Three turnings are contain’d in mortal course, 9
Old, mean, and young; mean and old bring[408] age;
The youth hath strength, the mean decaying force,
The old are weak, yet strong in anger’s rage:
Three turnings in one age, strong, weak, and weaker,
Yet age nor youth is youth’s or age’s breaker.
Some say[409] that youth is quick in judging causes,
Some say[409] that age is witty, grave, and wise:
I hold of age’s side, with their applauses,
Which judges with their hearts, not with their eyes;
I say grave wisdom lies in grayest heads,
And undefilèd lives in age’s beds.
God is both grave and old, yet young and new, 10
Grave because agèd, agèd because young;
Long youth may well be callèd age’s hue,
And hath no differing sound upon the tongue:
God old, because eternities are old;
Young, for eternities one motion hold.
Some in their birth, some die[410] when they are born,
Some born, and some abortive, yet all die;
Some in their youth, some in old age forlorn,
Some neither young nor old, but equally:
The righteous, when he liveth with the sinner,
Doth hope for death, his better life’s beginner.
The swine delights to wallow in the mire, 11
The giddy drunkard in excess of wine;
He may corrupt the purest reason’s gyre,
And she turn virtue into vice’s sign:
Mischief is mire, and may infect that spring
Which every flow and ebb of vice doth bring.
Fishes are oft deceivèd by the bait,
The bait deceiving fish doth fish deceive;
So righteous are allur’d by sin’s deceit,
And oft enticèd into sinners’ weave:
The righteous be as fishes to their gin,
Beguil’d, deceiv’d, allurèd into sin.
The fisher hath a bait deceiving fish, 12
The fowler hath a net deceiving fowls;
Both wisheth to obtain their snaring wish,
Observing time, like night-observing owls;
The fisher lays his bait, fowler his net,
He hopes for fish, the other birds to get.
This fisher is the wicked, vice his bait,
This fowler is the sinner, sin his net;
The simple righteous falls in their deceit,
And like a prey, a fish, a fowl beset:
A bait, a net, obscuring what is good,
Like fish and fowl took up for vice’s food.
But baits nor nets, gins nor beguiling snares, 13
Vice nor the vicious sinner, nor the sin,
Can shut the righteous into prison’s cares,
Or set deceiving baits to mew them in;
They know their life’s deliverer, heaven’s God,
Can break their baits and snares with justice’ rod.
When vice abounds on earth, and earth in vice, 14
When virtue keeps her chamber in the sky,
To shun the mischief which her baits entice,
Her snares, her nets, her guiles, her company;
As soon as mischief reigns upon the earth,
Heaven calls the righteous to a better birth.
The blinded eyes can never see the way, 15
The blinded heart can never see to see,
The blinded soul doth always go astray;
All three want sight, in being blind all three:
Blind and yet see, they see and yet are blind,
The face hath eyes, but eyeless is the mind.
They see with outward sight God’s heavenly grace,
His grace, his love, his mercy on his saints;
With outward-facèd eye and eyèd face,
Their outward body inward soul depaints:
Of heart’s chief eye they chiefly are bereft,
And yet the shadow[s] of two eyes are left.
Some blinded be in face, and some in soul; 16
The face’s eyes are not incurable;
The other wanteth healing to be whole,
Or seems to some to be endurable;
Look in a blinded eye, bright is the glass,
Though brightness banishèd from what it was.
So, quoth the righteous, are these blinded hearts;
The outward glass is clear, the substance dark,
Both seem as if one took the other’s parts,
Yet both in one have not one brightness’ spark:
The outward eye is but destruction’s reader,
Wanting the inward eye to be the leader.
Our body may be call’d a commonweal,
Our head the chief, for reason harbours there, 17
From thence comes heart’s and soul’s united zeal;
All else inferiors be, which stand in fear:
This commonweal, rul’d by discretion’s eye,
Lives likewise if she live, dies if she die.
Then how can weal or wealth, common or proper,
Long stand, long flow, long flourish, long remain,
When wail is weal’s, and stealth is wealth’s chief
stopper,
When sight is gone, which never comes again?
The wicked see[411] the righteous lose their breath,
But know not what reward they gain by death.
Though blind in sight, yet can they see to harm, 18
See to despise, see to deride and mock;
But their revenge lies in God’s mighty arm,
Scorning to choose them for his chosen flock:
He is the shepherd, godly are his sheep,
They wake in joy, these in destruction sleep.
The godly sleep in eyes, but wake in hearts; 19
The wicked sleep in hearts, but wake in eyes:
These ever wake, eyes are no sleepy parts;
These ever sleep, for sleep is heart’s disguise:
Their waking eyes do see their heart’s lament,
While heart securely sleeps in eyes’ content.
If they awake, sleep’s image doth molest them, 20
And beats into their waking memories;
If they do sleep, joy waking doth detest them,
Yet beats into their sleeping arteries:
Sleeping or waking, they have fear on fear,
Waking or sleeping, they are ne’er the near.[412]
If waking, they remember what they are,
What sins they have committed in their waking;
If sleeping, they forget tormenting’s fare,
How ready they have been in mischief’s making:
When they awake, their wickedness betrays them;
When they do sleep, destruction dismays them.
CHAP. V.
As these two slumbers have two contraries, 1
One slumber in the face, one in the mind;
So their two casements two varieties,
One unto heaven, and one to hell combin’d:
The face is flattery, and her mansion hell;
The mind is just, this doth in heaven dwell.
The face, heaving her heavy eyelids up
From forth the chamber of eternal night,
Sees virtue hold plenty’s replenish’d cup,
And boldly stand[413] in God’s and heaven’s sight;
She, opening the windows of her breast,
Sees how the wicked rest in their unrest.
Quoth she, Those whom the curtain of decay 2
Hath tragically summonèd to pain,
Were once the clouds and clouders of my day,
Depravers and deprivers of my gain.
The wicked hearing this descending sound,
Fear struck their limbs to the pale-clothèd ground.
Amazèd at the freedom of her words, 3
Their tongue-tied accents drove them to despair,
And made them change their minds to woe’s records,
And say within themselves, Lo, what we are!
We have had virtue in derision’s place,
And made a parable of her disgrace.
See where she sits enthronis’d in the sky! 4
See, see her labour’s crown upon her head!
See how the righteous live, which erst did die,
From death to life with virtue’s loadstar led!
See those whom we derided, they are blest,
They heaven’s, not hell’s, we hell’s, not heaven’s
guest!
We thought the righteous had been fury’s son,
With inconsiderate speech, unstayèd way;
We thought that death had his dishonour won,
And would have made his life destruction’s prey:
But we were mad, they just; we fools, they wise;
We shame, they praise; we loss, they have the prize.
We thought them fools, when we ourselves were fools; 5
We thought them mad, when we ourselves were mad;
The heat which sprang from them, our folly cools;
We find in us which we but thought they had:
We thought their end had been dishonour’s pledge;
They but survey’d the place, we made the hedge.
We see how they are blest, how we are curst;
How they accepted are, and we refus’d;
And how our bands are tied, their bands are burst;
Our faults are hourly blam’d, their faults excus’d;
See how heavens gratulate their welcom’d sight,
Which come[414] to take possession of their right!
But O too late we see our wickedness, 6
Too late we lie in a repentant tomb,
Too late we smooth old hairs with happiness,
Too late we seek to ease our bodies’ doom!
Now falsehood hath advanc’d her forgèd banner,
Too late we seem to verify truth’s manner.
The sun of righteousness, which should have shin’d,
And made our hearts the cabins of his east,
Is now made cloudy night through vice’s wind,
And lodgeth with his downfall in the west;
That summer’s day, which should have been night’s bar,
Is now made winter in her icy car.
Too much our feet have gone, but never right; 7
Much labour we have took, but none in good;
We wearièd ourselves with our delight,
Endangering ourselves to please our mood;
Our feet did labour much, ’twas for our pleasure;
We wearièd ourselves,’twas for our leisure.
In sin’s perfection was our labour spent,
In wickedness’ preferment we did haste;
To suffer perils we were all content
For the advancement of our vices past:
Through many dangerous ways our feet have gone,
But yet the way of God we have not known.
We which have made our hearts a sea of pride, 8
With huge risse[415] billows of a swelling mind,
With tossing tumults of a flowing tide,
Leaving our laden bodies plung’d behind;
What traffic have we got? ourselves are drown’d,
Our souls in hell, our bodies in the ground.
Where are our riches now? like us consum’d; 9
Where is our pomp? decay’d; where’s glory? dead;
Where is the wealth of which we all presum’d?
Where is our profit? gone; ourselves? misled:
All these are like to shadows what they were;
There is nor wealth, nor pomp, nor glory here.
The dial gives a caveat of the hour; 10
Thou canst not see it go, yet it is gone;
Like this the dial of thy fortune’s power,
Which fades by stealth, till thou art left alone:
Thy eyes may well perceive thy goods are spent,
Yet can they not perceive which way they went.
Lo, even as ships sailing on Tethys’ lap
Plough[416] up the furrows of hard-grounded waves,
Enforcèd for to go by Æol’s clap,
Making with sharpest team the water graves;
The ship once past, the trace cannot be found,
Although she diggèd in the water’s ground:
Or as an eagle, with her soaring wings, 11
Scorning the dusty carpet of the earth,
Exempt from all her clogging jesses,[417] flings
Up to the air, to shew her mounting birth;
And every flight doth take a higher pitch,
To have the golden sun her wings enrich;
Yet none can see the passage of her flight,
But only hear her hovering in the sky,
Beating the light wind with her being light,
Or parting through the air where she might fly;
The ear may hear, the eye can never see
What course she takes, or where she means to be:
Or as an arrow which is made to go 12
Through the transparent and cool-blowing air,
Feeding upon the forces of the bow,
Else forceless lies in wanting her repair;
Like as the branches when the tree is lopt,
Wanteth the forces which they forceless cropt;
The arrow, being fed with strongest shot,
Doth part the lowest elemental breath,
Yet never separates the soft air’s knot,
Nor never wounds the still-foot winds to death;
It doth sejoin and join the air together,
Yet none there is can tell or where or whither:
So are our lives; now they begin, now end, 13
Now live, now die, now born, now fit for grave;
As soon as we have breath, so soon we spend,
Not having that which our content would have:
As ships, as birds, as arrows, all as one,
Even so the traces of our lives are gone:
A thing not seen to go, yet going seen,
And yet not shewing any sign to go;
Even thus the shadows of our lives have been,
Which shew[418] to fade, and yet no virtues shew:
How can a thing consum’d with vice be good?
Or how can falsehood bear true virtue’s food?
Vain hope, to think that wickedness hath bearing 14
When she is drownèd in oblivion’s sea!
Yet can she not forget presumption’s wearing,
Nor yet the badge of vanity’s decay:
Her fruits are cares, her cares are vanities,
Two both in one destruction’s liveries.
Vain hope is like a vane turn’d with each wind;
’Tis like a smoke scatter’d with every storm;
Like dust, sometime before, sometime behind;
Like a thin foam made in the vainest form:
This hope is like to them which never stay,
But comes and goes again all in one day.
View nature’s gifts; some gifts are rich, some 15
poor;
Some barren grounds there are, some cloth’d with
fruit;
Nor hath all nothing, nor hath all her store;
Nor can all creatures speak, nor are all mute;
All die by nature, being born by nature;
So all change feature, being born with feature.
This life is hers; this dead, dead is her power,
Her bound[419] begins and ends in mortal state;
Whom she on earth accounteth as her flower
May be in heaven condemn’d of mortal hate;
But he whom virtue judges for to live,
The Lord his life and due reward will give.
The servant of a king may be a king, 16
And he that was a king a servile slave;
Swans before death a funeral dirge do sing,
And wave[420] their wings again[421] ill fortune’s
wave:
He that is lowest in this lowly earth
May be the highest in celestial birth.
The rich may be unjust in being rich,
For riches do corrupt and not correct;
The poor may come to highest honour’s pitch,
And have heaven’s crown for mortal life’s respect:
God’s hands shall cover them from all their foes,
God’s arm defend them from misfortune’s blows:
His hand eternity, his arm his force, 17, 18
His armour zealousy, his breast-plate heaven,
His helmet judgment, justice, and remorse,[422]
His shield is victory’s immortal steven;[423]
The world his challenge, and his wrath his sword,
Mischief his foe, his aid his gospel’s word:
His arm doth overthrow his enemy, 19, 20
His breast-plate sin, his helmet death and hell,
His shield prepar’d against mortality,
His sword ’gainst them which in the world do dwell:
So shall vice, sin, and death, world and the devil,
Be slain by him which slayeth every evil.
All heaven shall be in arms against earth’s world; 21
The sun shall dart forth fire commix’d with blood,
The blazing stars from heaven shall be hurl’d,
The pale-fac’d moon against the ocean-flood;
Then shall the thundering chambers[424] of the sky
Be lighten’d with the blaze of Titan’s eye.
The clouds shall then be bent like bended bows,
To shoot the thundering arrows of the air;
Thick hail and stones shall fall on heaven’s foes,
And Tethys overflow in her despair;
The moon shall overfill her horny hood
With Neptune’s ocean’s overflowing flood.
The wind shall be no longer kept in caves, 22
But burst the iron cages of the clouds;
And Æol shall resign his office-staves,
Suffering the winds to combat with the floods:
So shall the earth with seas be palèd in,
As erst it hath been overflow’d with sin.
Thus shall the earth weep for her wicked sons,
And curse the concave of her tirèd womb,
Into whose hollow mouth the water runs,
Making wet wilderness her driest tomb;
Thus, thus iniquity hath reign’d so long,
That earth on earth is punish’d for her wrong.
CHAP. VI.
After this conflict between God and man, 1
Remorse[425] took harbour in God’s angry breast;
Astræa to be pitiful began,
All heavenly powers to lie in mercy’s rest;
Forthwith the voice of God did redescend,
And his Astræa warn’d all to amend.
To you I speak, quoth she; hear, learn, and mark, 2
You that be kings, judges, and potentates,
Give ear, I say; wisdom, your strongest ark,
Sends me as messenger to end debates;
Give ear, I say, you judges of the earth,
Wisdom is born, seek out for wisdom’s birth.
This heavenly embassage from wisdom’s tongue, 3
Worthy the volume of all heaven’s sky,
I bring as messenger to right your wrong;
If so, her sacred name might never die:
I bring you happy tidings; she is born,
Like golden sunbeams from a silver morn.
The Lord hath seated you in judgment’s seat,
Let wisdom place you in discretion’s places;
Two virtues, one will make one virtue great,
And draw more virtues with attractive faces:
Be just and wise, for God is just and wise;
He thoughts, he words, he words and actions tries.
If you neglect your office’s decrees, 4
Heap new lament on long-toss’d miseries,
Do and undo by reason of degrees,
And drown your sentences in briberies,
Favour and punish, spare and keep in awe,
Set and unset, plant and supplant the law;
O be assur’d there is a judge above, 5
Which will not let injustice flourish long;
If tempt him, you your own temptation move,
Proceeding from the judgment of his tongue:
Hard judgment shall he have which judgeth hard,
And he that barreth others shall be barr’d.
For God hath no respect of rich from poor, 6
For he hath made the poor and made the rich;
Their bodies be alike, though their minds soar,
Their difference nought but in presumption’s pitch:
The carcass of a king is kept from foul,
The beggar yet may have the cleaner soul.
The highest men do bear the highest minds;
The cedars scorn to bow, the mushrooms bend;
The highest often superstition blinds,
But yet their fall is greatest in the end;
The winds have not such power of the grass,
Because it lowly stoopeth whenas they pass.
The old should teach the young observance’ way, 7
But now the young doth teach the elder grace;
The shrubs do teach the cedars to obey,
These yield to winds, but these the winds out-face:
Yet he that made the winds to cease and blow,
Can make the highest fall, the lowest grow.
He made the great to stoop as well as small, 8
The lions to obey as other beasts;
He cares for all alike, yet cares for all,
And looks that all should answer his behests;
But yet the greater hath the sorer trial,
If once he finds them with his law’s denial.
Be warn’d, you tyrants, at the fall of pride; 9
You see how surges change to quiet calm,
You see both flow and ebb in folly’s tide,
How fingers are infected by their palm:
This may your caveat be, you being kings,
Infect your subjects, which are lesser things.
Ill scents of vice once crept into the head
Do[426] pierce into the chamber of the brain,
Making the outward skin disease’s bed,
The inward powers as nourishers of pain;
So if that mischief reigns in wisdom’s place,
The inward thought lies figur’d in the face.
Wisdom should clothe herself in king’s attire, 10
Being the portraiture of heaven’s queen;
But tyrants are no kings, but mischief’s mire,
Not sage, but shows of what they should have been;
They seek for vice, and how to go amiss,
But do not once regard what wisdom is.
They which are kings by name are kings by deed,
Both rulers of themselves and of their land;
They know that heaven is virtue’s duest meed,
And holiness is knit in holy band:
These may be rightly callèd by their name,
Whose words and works are blaz’d in wisdom’s flame.
To nurse up cruelty with mild aspèct, 11
Were to begin, but never for to end;
Kindness with tigers never takes effect,
Nor proffer’d friendship with a foelike friend:
Tyrants and tigers have all natural mothers,
Tyrants her sons, tigers the tyrants’ brothers.
No words’ delight can move delight in them,
But rather plough the traces of their ire;
Like swine, that take the dirt before the gem,
And scorn[427] that pearl which they should most
desire:
But kings whose names proceed from kindness’ sound
Do plant their hearts and thoughts on wisdom’s ground.
A grounding ever moist, and never dry, 12
An ever-fruitful earth, no fruitless way,
In whose dear womb the tender springs do lie,
Which ever flow and never ebb[428] away;
The sun but shines by day, she day and night
Doth keep one stayèd essence of her light.
Her beams are conducts to her substance’ view, 13
Her eye is adamant’s attractive force;
A shadow hath she none, but substance true,
Substance outliving life of mortal course:
Her sight is easy unto them which love her,
Her finding easy unto them which prove her.
The far-fet[429] chastity of female sex 14
Is nothing but allurement into lust,
Which will forswear and take, scorn and annex,
Deny and practise it, mistrust and trust:
Wisdom is chaste, and of another kind;
She loves, she likes, and yet not lustful blind.
She is true love, the other love a toy;
Her love hath eyes, the other love is blind;
This doth proceed from God, this from a boy;
This constant is, the other vain-combin’d:
If longing passions follow her desire,
She offereth herself as labour’s hire.
She is not coyish she, won by delay, 15
With sighs and passions, which all lovers use,
With hot affection, death, or life’s decay,
With lovers’ toys, which might their loves excuse:
Wisdom is poor, her dowry is content;
She nothing hath, because she nothing spent.